


Walls Come Tumbling Down

by lambchop33



Series: The Match Game [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Contractor Bucky, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I'm too romantic, M/M, Masturbation, Neighbors, Not Safe But Consensual, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Slow Burn, Web Designer Steve, but it's just fiction, weiner dogs are the bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambchop33/pseuds/lambchop33
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a successful contractor with an unsuccessful dating history. His boyfriend of many years cheated on him, and he's determined not to repeat that mistake. Enter Steve Rogers, the gorgeous neighbor he discovers in his new apartment building. Companion piece to The Match Game, told from Bucky's point of view, from the beginning. And in the beginning, the thoughts inside Bucky's head are radically different from those inside Steve's head, save for one thing. Bucky thinks Steve is hot, so he's got that going for him. But at this stage, that's all he's got.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a companion piece to The Match Game, told from Bucky's point of view. Because I can't help myself. The chapters will correspond for the most part, but Steve's point of view should be read first, either all the way through or chapter by chapter. And of course there will be fresh smut. Again, because I can't help myself. Long live Stucky.

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes steps out of his car and tugs at the black ponytail holder currently keeping his hair tethered and under control. _Maybe I should just cut the mop off._ It’s down past his chin now, probably the longest it’s ever been in his life, but he doesn’t really want to cut it. If he went short, he’d have to go _really_ short, like military style short, because he just doesn’t want to have to _do stuff_ to it. Right now, he can just shove it up in a bun, or pull it back into a pony. Boom. Done. 

He glances at the sign over the door as he walks under it and pulls the door open. _Barnes Construction._ The proudest day of his life was the day that sign went up. The day he officially went into business for himself, doing exactly what he wanted to do. Build. The interior of the building seems dark after the blinding sun outside, and he pauses for a second. There’s something just so rewarding about making something with your own two hands, your own skill, something that will last. Something that will mean something special to the people you make it for. Sounds goofy, but it’s true. Every day he appreciates that fact. 

“Hey, Darce!” he calls out as he enters his building, a small but nice space. _His_ space. 

The young woman behind the counter, currently standing with her back to him, gives him a backward wave. “Yo, Bucky bear,” she responds distractedly, but holds up a finger at him as she finishes counting something in the filing cabinet in front of her, signaling to him to stay put. 

He waits, instead of passing her by and heading into his office. As ridiculous as it is, he’s been called Bucky bear for so long, it doesn’t even faze him. When her count is complete, she turns to him and smiles, teeth white against her burgundy lipstick. “So, all moved in?” she asks animatedly, pushing the file drawer shut with the bangles around her wrist jangling. He notices her skirt and silk blouse secondarily. Darcy is always overdressed for work, especially compared to him and his jeans and t-shirts. But her style is hers, and he wouldn’t have her any other way. 

His answering smile is broad. “Yep. Finished moving stuff last night. The place is _great_. It feels so good to be out of… you know,” he finishes vaguely, shrugging. 

Darcy nods. She knows what he means. “I’m really glad for you, honey. It’ll be good for you to leave that all behind. I wish it could have been sooner.”

Bucky shrugs again. “Well, a lease is a lease.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Now Becca is helping you, right?” She nods encouragingly. “I mean, to make it not look like a man cave?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and proceeds down the hall. “Yes, Darcy, she’s _helping_ me.”

“Good!” Darcy yells after him. “Because you have terrible taste!” she teases. 

\--

Later that day, after driving home to his new apartment, he decides to try out the park that’s practically next door. For August, it was surprisingly cool that day, and close enough to dusk that he keeps his jeans on, hoping to discourage mosquitoes. His dog, a black and tan shorthair Dachshund named Zeus, starts dancing around as soon as he sees the leash in Bucky’s hand, so he snaps it on without delay and off they go. 

The park in question turns out to be really nice. Lots of trails, wide and well maintained, no tree roots poking up to take you unawares and trip you, plus a paved walk that suits their purposes very well. He talks to Zeus as they are walking, and the little dog’s tail never stops wagging. 

“You like this one, too, boy? I think it’s perfect,” Bucky croons to his dog. 

They are coming around a bend in the trail when it happens. A runner coming from the other direction almost topples right into them, stopping just in time. He’s blond. Just a little taller than Bucky. Built like a Mack truck, with broad shoulders that taper down into a slinky set of hips, and strong, thick runner’s thighs. And he’s _so fucking hot._ Like, _seriously_ hot. Male model hot.

Bucky blinks into cornflower blue eyes, strong brows pulled together and short hair that he bets stands up in the front when it’s not plastered down with sweat. God, how can anyone look that good sweaty? The man is _glistening_. As per usual, Zeus is going absolutely crazy, barking like his life depends on it. He gives the leash a good yank, but it doesn’t help at all. Neither does telling his dog to be quiet. He laughs and tries to weather the storm.

The man says something about Zeus being a good watch dog. His voice is divine; Bucky manages to make some sort of lame reply, but as soon as it comes out of his mouth he has no recollection of his words. He’s really just thinking about how this guy’s shirt is tight enough that he can see the outline of his pecs underneath it, hard muscles bulging out attractively. 

Zeus calms down, thank goodness, and the man waves at them as he steps around and passes by. Bucky lets him go, fighting the urge to turn Zeus around and follow. He does turn his head around, craning like an owl to sneak a peek at the guy’s ass, which of course is flipping incredible. He sighs and looks down at his tiny dog.

“God damn, Zeus, did you see that? He was _beautiful_.”

Zeus flutters his tail in agreement and hangs his tongue out the side of his mouth. 

“And you are embarrassing as hell, you know that?” 

Zeus smiles up at him, teeth showing and tongue lolling, and his tail wags even faster.

\--

Two days later, Zeus gets another opportunity to embarrass his owner. Bucky is taking him out to go back to the park when he sees a familiar face entering his building, one he did not expect to see. 

“Thor!” he shouts over the din of his dog going nuts, and sticks out his hand. 

His electrician friend takes it and gives him a hearty shake, then looks down and waits a second for Zeus to calm himself. “Bucky, when you said you were moving soon, I didn’t know you meant _here!_ ” 

Bucky smiles. “And I had no idea this was your apartment building.” He motions with his head to the interior. “How long have you lived here?” 

Thor shifts his weight and sticks one foot out. “Let’s see, it’s got to be several years now.” 

“So you like it?” He's eager for input on the building.

“Love it!” Thor replies enthusiastically, and punches him lightly on the upper arm. “It’s great you’ll be here. I have some friends I want you to meet.” He looks down. “And I see you brought a friend yourself.”

Bucky chuckles. “Zeus, meet Thor.” 

Zeus, who had been sitting at his side, now stands and gives Thor a tail wag. 

“Hey there buddy,” Thor nods, then looks back to Bucky. “We play basketball in the courtyard every Saturday at nine, when the weather holds. You should come play.”

“Yeah?” Bucky tips his head, uncertain. He’s not the most outgoing person, but he did come here to make a fresh start. And he’s known Thor for quite some time. What better way to meet his new neighbors? “Sure, I’ll play,” he decides. “Can’t this weekend, but I will next week.”

“Fantastic,” Thor says, clapping his hands together. “Are you all moved in already?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, all settled. It’s nice being so close to the office.” 

Thor is on the move again. “I’ve gotta run,” he confesses. “But I’ll text you later!” he slaps Bucky on the shoulder as he passes.

“Great to see you!” He’s genuinely happy to see Thor there. He considers him a friend already, and Bucky’s life is sorely lacking in male companionship, friends or lovers alike. His own fault, of course. His thoughts turn dark as he and Zeus step out and head down the sidewalk for the park. He was so young when he got involved with his former boyfriend. _Young and stupid_ , he thinks to himself. As the years passed and his boyfriend slowly, insidiously encouraged and nurtured Bucky’s dependence upon him for all his emotional support, he let his old friends slip away, hardly even realizing it. _Look how that turned out._

But this is his new chance to start over. He’s not going to waste any more time than he already has. The period after the breakup was horrible, filled with nothing but despair and self-loathing, and he doesn’t want to revisit it. He looks down at his dog and smiles. _Fresh start._ What a blessing he just ran into Thor. He’s got a good feeling about this.

\--

Another couple of days pass, and Bucky is on his way home from work when he remembers he needs to stop and get dog food—he’s out completely and meant to get some the last time he was at the grocery store. “Fuck!” he curses, swings his car around and goes for the store closest to his new place. It’s annoying to have to stop. The day was long, he hasn’t even had dinner yet and he had to deal with some particularly difficult and prickly house owners. All he wanted to do was get home and crash on the couch. 

After grabbing a big bag and carrying it up to the checkout line, he’s waiting impatiently when he hears a voice from behind him. _The_ voice. He knows it immediately. Turning to look behind him, he can’t help a big smile from crossing his face. It’s hotstuff from the park, only now he’s not sweaty. He’s got on shorts and a t-shirt, and his short hair _does_ stand up in the front. He looks cute as fuck. 

The man asked him about his dog so Bucky makes an offhand remark about his dog food emergency. Suddenly he doesn’t feel so grumpy about it. He checks out the conveyer belt, and all that sits on it is a bag of Idaho potatoes. Kind of a strange thing to run to the store for, but he figures this guy did the same thing he did—forgot to get them on his last trip. He brings his eyes back to those fascinating blue ones and tries not to stare into them too much. 

Because number one, while looking is fine, he’s NOT going to get himself into any kind of dating situation. Absolutely not. That thought alone can make him break out into a cold sweat. Number two, there’s no way in _hell_ this guy is gay and unattached anyway. No way.

Turns out the guy has a sense of humor and makes a joke about a potato emergency, bringing up a chuckle from Bucky. He jokes back with him and then has to pay for his purchase. The man stays silent and doesn’t try to pick him up, so Bucky assumes his first conclusion was correct. _He’s straight._ He does wish him a good night to be polite, then heaves the bag of food up onto his hip, goes on his merry way, and thinks that’s the end of it. Hottie probably lives somewhere close by. Maybe he’ll see him once in a while shopping, or at the park. He’ll be nice to ogle when he’s running. Nothing more. He’s almost disappointed. _Almost._


	2. A Fish Named George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky settles in to his new apartment. And is unsettled by his reaction to his hot new neighbor. He gets to meet all of the inhabitants of the building in turn, and have his first experience playing basketball with the guys. And it's an _experience._

Chapter Two

Bucky’s sister stands in the middle of the living room, chin cradled in one hand, casting a critical eye around her. He has all of his furniture moved in and situated the way _he_ thinks it should be placed, and he allowed Becca to drag him around shopping for shit to put on the walls. Bucky doesn’t really care about shit on the walls, but according to Darcy and her, he should. And apparently the twenty-three inch small mouth bass he caught when he was twelve, which his dad had mounted on a board for him, _doesn’t_ count. 

“I still think George should go on the wall above the couch there,” Bucky insists, antagonizing his sister the way only a brother could. 

The fish is affectionately named George, for his father. The fish is also conspicuously absent from the room. 

“Shut up,” the dark-haired young woman says endearingly, and points at two armchairs side by side. “Those should be facing each other, perpendicular to the couch.”

Bucky throws her a doubtful glance. “I don’t know, Becs, the room is not cathedral sized.”

She waves her hand airily. “Whatever. They’ll fit. Come on and help me.”

Giving in good-naturedly (because she is stubborn as a mule anyway), he walks over and starts shoving. The chair, not his sister. Once they get things placed so that Becca is satisfied, she directs her efforts to their new purchases. Those she consents to let Bucky hang, since he _is_ pretty handy with a hammer and nails. As he works, she sits down next to Zeus and starts petting him. He immediately rolls onto his back and lets her rub his chest. 

“How does Zeus like it here?” she questions, giving his chin a tickle. 

Bucky runs his stud-finder along the wall until it lights up, then marks the spot with a pencil. “He seems to be adjusting fine,” he replies, and sticks the pencil back over one ear. “There’s that park next door that’s really great, too. We’ve been walking there a lot.”

“Yeah? Is the park…busy?” 

Her tone is casual, but Bucky knows her well enough to pick up the underlying gist of her meaning. 

He turns, in the middle of holding a framed picture up on the wall to get it centered, and looks at her. “I am not going to the park to pick up men, Becs.”

“Why not?” she fires back, smiling and making a face at him. The family resemblance between them is strong, and looking at her reminds Bucky of their mother. “There might be somebody there worth picking up,” she insists.

Bucky stares at the ceiling, counts to ten silently, then puts down the picture and grabs his hammer from the nearby end table. She can nag just like their mother, too. “Give it up. It’s not happening.”

They’ve been through this, several times. Right after the break-up, Becca had been completely sympathetic and understanding. But as the weeks and months passed and he still hadn’t been able to pull himself out of his funk, her compassion had turned to worry and frustration. He was so much better now compared to then, so her worry had faded away. That left the frustration, now aimed at his lack of interest in dating. And sure, sometimes he felt lonely…but it wasn’t enough to overcome the hurt his last relationship had produced and the fear of the same thing happening again.

“It’s been a year, Bucky. How long are you going to keep yourself in exile?”

He snorts indelicately. “Lots of people live celibate lives quite happily.” He drives a nail into the stud with more force than he needs to. “Why do you insist I have to be in a relationship?”

She crosses her legs at the knee resolutely. “Because I know you, and I know you don’t _really_ want to be alone forever. That’s why you were in a long term relationship in the first place, right? Because you want to find someone.”

Shaking his head, he sets the hammer down again and picks up the picture to hang. “I never said it would be forever…I just…I’m not ready for any of that, okay?”

She cocks her head to one side. “A little to the left.” He slides the picture slightly to the side she indicates, until she nods. “Yeah, right there.” She waits until he turns to face her again to continue her press. “You’ll never _be_ ready if you don’t put yourself out there and start meeting people again. Do you think the perfect man is just going to drop into your lap without you making any effort at all?”

Bucky grins, despite his annoyance. The image of the stranger from the park flashes across his eyes. If he wasn’t the embodiment of the perfect man, physically anyway, who was? He’s sure as hell not going to tell Becca about him, but he can’t help giving her a hard time. “Yes. That’s exactly what I think’s going to happen.” He moves to another spot on the empty wall. “I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. Someday, in the distant future, when the right guy comes along, maybe then things will be different.”

She rolls her eyes and points at a sculpted metal piece for him to hang next. “Shit, at this point, I’d be happy if you just had a one night stand.”

Again, a mental picture of the strapping, muscled blond enters his head, unbidden. Hmmm. It’s the first time he’s even entertained the idea of getting physical with anyone. One night stands aren’t really his style, but at least they come without the risk of getting hurt. No emotional attachment means no betrayal. No pain. So is that progress? Whatever it is, he shakes it off. The guy is a stranger, who’s not even gay, who didn’t even make a move on him in the grocery store. So like he said earlier, it’s not happening. Period. 

\--

It’s a Monday night and Bucky is ready to get out of work mode and relax. There’s a baseball game on TV calling his name. He gets the key code on the door right on the first try this time (Hallelujah! He’s messed it up so many times already!) and pushes open the door. The interior of the building is cool compared to the sweltering heat outside. It’s days like these that he wishes he could strip and work shirtless, and days like these he’s extra glad his office has a shower in the private bathroom. When he’s filthy, he doesn’t always like to bring that home with him. Like today; he had to stop at the office before coming home anyway, so he grabbed a quick shower and changed into non-grimy clothes.

As he climbs the stairs to the second floor and turns down his hallway, he stops short. Down a few doors stands a man, fiddling with a ring of keys. _Oh my God._ It’s _him_. Tall, blond and handsome. What the fuck! He _lives here_. And only two doors down! He hesitates, then decides to go and talk to him. They’re neighbors, after all, why not go and get acquainted with Mr. Perfect? The man is preoccupied and doesn’t even notice Bucky striding toward him, silent and light on his feet. 

“And here I thought you were stalking me.”

At that, the man jumps rather noticeably, making Bucky feel bad. He almost dropped his keys—must have been really deep in thought. He apologizes and the man jokes about _him_ being the stalker, so Bucky introduces himself and offers his hand. In return he receives a nice, firm handshake and a name. _Steve Rogers._ While they make general small talk, Steve leans against his door frame. His shoulders are so broad, he takes up a good portion of the door opening, and when he leans back, the fabric of his shirt sinks in and hints at the six pack underneath. Damn, he’s sexy without even _trying_ to be. 

Bucky takes note of the curious look on Steve’s face when, thinking of his sister, he mentions how Zeus hasn’t ever barked at her. 

“Her?” Steve asks him, and the interest in his voice is just enough to make Bucky think twice about his assessment of his sexuality. 

Could he be gay? He examines his features more as they continue talking. Fuck, Steve is just gorgeous, from head to toe. Those long legs, filling out his jeans so remarkably well, the slender waist and wide shoulders; they’re such hot buttons for Bucky. That body is the stuff wet dreams are made of. And that _face_. How can he look boy-next-door cute, and bad-boy sexy at the same time? _It’s the eyes_ , he thinks. His face is All American goodness, but the eyes…once they draw you in, they are filled with promises of sin. The kind of sin you _want_ in your life. Well. Isn’t that something?

He is brought out of his reverie when Steve mentions Thor’s name. He knows Thor? Wait, is Steve one of the friends he wanted Bucky to meet? Playing basketball? He must be, or how would Steve have known to use his name? 

“He mentioned he asked someone new in the building to play,” Steve confirms, and Bucky can’t help smiling. 

So they’re going to be playing basketball together. Outstanding. He’d like to watch that body running and jumping and sweating. Subconsciously he runs a hand through his hair, which annoyingly refuses to stay out of his face, and watches as Steve’s eyes track the movement. Interesting. Maybe he was wrong about him being straight. He feels a surge of…desire. Primal and basic. It comes up out of nowhere, spiking up inside his gut and giving him an electric feeling everywhere. Being watched like that by him, it pushes another button. 

He hasn’t had this kind of reaction to anyone in what seems like forever, and it’s disconcerting and thrilling simultaneously. Maybe it’s just because he is lonely. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t had anyone who interested him pay that kind of attention to him in a long time. Whatever it is, he’s going to need a minute to process. Feeling hot all over and pulse pumping along pretty quickly, Bucky beats a retreat back to his own apartment. 

They make some parting comments before he starts to shuffle off back toward his own door, and Steve is nice enough to offer, “Hey, if you need anything, feel free to come over anytime.”

 _Anytime_. Bucky has some impure thoughts about what that could mean, but settles on his new neighbor just being friendly and generous. So on top of being gobsmackingly good looking, he possesses good manners. Also outstanding.

Once inside his own apartment and seated on his couch with Zeus to catch that baseball game, he thinks about examining his reaction to Steve. Then decides it isn’t necessary. Probably just a one-time thing. Probably meant nothing at all, so why expend any effort trying to figure it out? Yeah. He sinks down in the couch, feeling satisfied. Only a tiny little part of his brain is putting up resistance, and he can ignore that pretty easily. 

That evening, after Bucky has had time to cool down, he receives a text from Thor, as promised, asking him to come down to his place for a beer. Despite being a giant of a man, Bucky has always found him to be gentle and easy-going, and also good at his work. After being ushered in by the tall, muscular blond and taking a seat on the large sectional couch, a beer is pressed into his hands, along with some questions.

“So how are things? Busy month?”

He’s referring to work, and it sure as hell has been. This time of year is busiest for the both of them. He nods. “Yeah, super busy, but the Wilson house is on schedule and will be ready for you soon.”

“Fantastic,” Thor says. “And how’s the home life? All settled in here?”

“All settled.” He looks at the bottle in his hand. The label isn’t commercial. “You make this yourself?”

“Yeah, try it and tell me what you think.” 

Thor leans forward, blue eyes intent on him. Seems like he’s determined to become good at brewing beer, too. Bucky takes a long drink from the bottle, nervously at first but then freely, once the smooth taste hits his tongue. It’s _good_.

“Hey, this is really good,” he tells Thor, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. 

Thor smiles smugly and leans back on the couch. “It’s got clove in it,” he reveals, and takes a drink from his own bottle. “Clint thought it was a terrible idea.”

“No, it’s good,” Bucky reassures him and licks his lips. “Clint lives in the building, too?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Bucky toys with the edge of the paper label on his bottle. “I already met one of my neighbors, coming into the building. He mentioned you.”

Thor’s eyebrows arch in a sign of curiosity. “And who’s that?”

“Steve, two doors down from me?”

Thor’s face brightens. “Steve! He’s great!”

Bucky’s eyes drop to the edge of that paper label and he picks at it casually. “Yeah, he seems really nice. So…tell me…is he straight, or gay?”

He can feel Thor’s eyes on him without even looking up. 

“He’s gay,” Thor says matter of factly, and a rush of _something_ hits Bucky square in the belly. Then Thor’s tone changes and becomes more hesitant. “Are you…are you dating again? I know you had a rough break-up a while back.”

“NO!” Bucky blurts out loudly, then settles himself down. “No, I’m not. I was just curious.” He can tell from Thor’s expression he’s not really buying that answer, but he can’t stop himself from asking more questions, anyway, even if it rouses more suspicion. “Is he dating someone?”

Thor sits back against the couch cushion, a small smile playing around on his lips. “No, I don’t think he is at the moment. You should get to know him.”

Either Thor just poisoned him with his home brew, or there are emotions roiling inside Bucky he hasn’t dealt with in a long time. Why should he care if Steve is dating someone? Why does it give him such pleasure to hear that he’s not? He just told his sister he’s not ready to date, and that’s the truth. He doesn’t want to date Steve. 

So what does he want?

\--

The next time he sees his intriguing neighbor is Friday evening; he’s on his way out the door to meet up with his sister, and Steve and a good-looking black man with a trim goatee are hauling golf clubs down the hallway past his door. He feels a sense of longing when he sees the clubs. Golf was something he always meant to learn but never got the chance to. His ex thought golf was a dumb game, for people who had no other athletic skill. 

“Hi Steve!” he greets him, and before he can get any words out, his companion leans in and extends his hand.

“Sam Wilson,” he introduces himself with gusto. “You must be Bucky.” 

Word travels fast. Bucky nods and shakes Sam’s hand. “That’s right.”

“Hi, Bucky. How are you?” Steve manages to get around the effervescent Sam, and while Bucky gets a few words in, Sam’s not done with him yet. 

“So, I’ve heard a lot about you already,” he states baldly, with a smile covering his face. 

“You have?” Bucky sneaks a peek at Steve, who has the most delicious blush creeping up his cheeks to his ears. _He talked about me!_ The thought shouldn’t mean anything to him. New tenants would be a topic of conversation no matter who they were. But then why would he blush if that’s all it was? And why should Bucky feel all warm and tingly inside because of it?

Sam mentions playing basketball and asks if Bucky golfs; he’s sorry to say he doesn’t, but mentions his desire to learn. Sam turns out to be a wonderful human being, because he offers to teach him. Or more accurately, he offers to have _Steve_ teach him, and hey, that’s even better, right? Who wouldn’t want to watch Mr. Perfect Pecs shoot a round of golf?

Before he knows it, Steve has agreed and Bucky has given him his cell phone number so they can make plans. Bucky pulls his door shut behind him and they chit chat some more on the way down to the parking lot. He’s pretty stoked about the whole thing, not just because he’ll finally get to learn, but because of who his teacher will be. After all, Thor did say he should get to know him, and it’s a safe, no pressure way to do so. It’s just golf. And if his teacher happens to be hotter than the sun, that’s just a lucky bonus, right?

\--

Later that evening, Bucky and his sister are strolling down between two rows of white tents at a local art fair. It's a cute little set-up, on the flat grass of a park. Local artists ply their wares, with anything from leather worked goods to paintings on display. Becca already has one purchase, a leather wallet, in a bag tucked under her arm, and Bucky bought her a sterling silver ring when her back was turned, because she liked it but didn't want to spend any more money there. He plans on saving it for her birthday; he himself doesn’t really have much interest in art, but it’s a chance to spend time with his sister, and she _promised_ there would be funnel cakes. Bucky’s already had one crispy, powdered sugar delight, and is now seriously considering supporting the caramel apple stand with his business when his cell phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text message.

_Hey, it’s Steve. We’re at the course right now. How does a week from Sunday work for you?_

A grin splits Bucky’s tanned face. He thinks about how to reply; maybe have a little fun and see how Steve reacts. He texts back:

_Sunday? That’s bingo day._

Seeing the continued smile on his face, Becca asks, “Who are you texting?” 

They stop next to the caramel apple stand, with it's long shelf housing caramel apples dipped in Oreo cookies, chocolate chips, Heath bar, you name it. They look irresistible, and the smell wafting over from the warm caramel is intoxicating. Bucky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in through his nose, and opens his eyes again. 

“A guy in my building. He’s going to teach me how to golf.”

“A guy?” she repeats, jiggling her head impatiently. “Does this guy have a name?”

“Steve,” Bucky says distractedly. Another text came in:

_Oh. We can try for another day then._

He laughs out loud. So Steve is going to be fun to tease. Becca clears her throat. He looks up from his phone; she has one eyebrow raised and is staring at him, arms crossed in front of her chest, smiling calculatingly.

“What?” he asks innocently, and quickly texts back:

_Steve, I’m kidding. Next Sunday would be great. Just pick a time._

She laughs and pulls him by the arm into the line at the caramel apple stand. “One, we’re getting caramel apples. Two, is this Steve guy gay or straight?”

Bucky clucks his tongue and puts his phone down. “He’s gay, but it’s not like that. We barely know each other.”

She cocks her head to the side. “And yet he makes you laugh like that?” 

“Becs,” he says in warning, but she ignores him.

“How old is he?”

Bucky shrugs and steps forward as the line moves. “About my age.”

Becca steps forward with him. “And what does he look like?”

He coughs, hems and haws at this question, not wanting to give her any ammunition, but she’s relentless.

She does her best Vizzini impersonation from their favorite movie, arms wide with palms upturned. “ _I’m waiting…_ ” 

He laughs at her silliness, then sighs and gives in. “He’s hot, alright? He’s really hot.” 

She grins and gives his arm a squeeze. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now I expect regular updates.”

Bucky throws his head back and looks to the heavens. “Becs, no! It’s not like that!”

“Whatever,” she says airily, and pulls him toward the counter to order. 

\--

Saturday morning. First day of basketball. Thor had suggested Bucky come down to his place a couple of minutes early so he could meet Clint, which Bucky was more than happy to do. The effort Thor has been putting in to make sure he feels welcome has not been lost on him. _Big softie_ , he thinks fondly as he traipses down the hall toward Thor’s apartment, water bottle sloshing in one hand and leash in the other. 

It’s already hot, even at nine in the morning, but he’s decided to take Zeus out with him instead of leaving him cooped up inside. There are a few trees scattered around the courtyard so Zeus can have some shade. Holding his water bottle and leash in his left hand, he’s just knocked on Thor’s door with his right when it opens and a stranger stands in front of him. A bit shorter than he is, short, light brown hair, expressive blue eyes. Shorts and t-shirt. He’s just about to apologize for knocking on the wrong door when Zeus goes nuts. Oh yeah, a stranger. 

The man reaches out and shakes his hand vigorously, looking down at Zeus and then back up. 

“Hi, I’m Clint,” he yells enthusiastically, and practically pulls Bucky into the room while still shaking his hand. 

He can see Thor over in the kitchen, filling up his water bottle, and waves when Clint releases his hand. “Bucky,” he says to Clint, and looks down at his dog. “Down boy!”

Zeus does quiet down, but Bucky has the feeling it’s only because he’s satisfied with the amount of barking he did, not because of any commands he gave. 

Clint has been eyeing him up and down; he looks over his shoulder at Thor and shouts, “You were right!”

Without turning around, Thor yells back, “I’m always right!”

Bucky feels like he missed something and mumbles a “huh?” but Clint shakes it off. 

“Nevermind. Welcome to the building! I’m just next door—you come to me if you have any questions. Thor is _not_ always right. Actually he doesn’t know shit.” He looks down again at the now-quiet Zeus. “Who’s this little guy?”

“This is Zeus,” Bucky introduces them, as Thor joins them with water bottle in hand. 

Clint scratches his head. “Are we even allowed to have dogs in here?”

Thor and Bucky both laugh. “That’s why you come to me,” Thor whispers loudly, pointing at his own chest. “Ready to go?”

“Ready and willing,” Bucky replies.

“I’m gonna die out there,” Clint moans. “I ran out of Wheaties for breakfast.”

Thor _tsks_ and leads the way out into the hallway, keys in hand. He explains to Bucky, “Clint has very specific breakfast foods he can consume prior to ball games.”

“Allergies?” Bucky ventures a guess, looking at Clint, but it’s Thor who answers. 

“No, he’s just anal.”

“I’m feeling unbalanced,” Clint pretends to whine, drawing a laugh out of Bucky. 

First impressions aren’t everything, but he likes Clint’s quirkiness instantly. “So what are good breakfast foods before a ball game?” he asks, and Clint’s eyes light up.

“Wheaties with blueberries in them. You like blueberries? Amazing fruit,” Clint chatters as they traverse the hall. “Also yogurt with Grape Nuts.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Not granola?”

They exit the building and head out towards the basketball court, Clint still going on about the food. “Granola will do in a pinch, but really Grape Nuts are the bee’s knees. Or egg muffins with sausage and bacon baked in.”

“ _Mmmmmm_ ,” Bucky says. His eyes have landed on Steve, already out on the court with Sam and a man he doesn’t know yet. The _mmmmmm_ covered both bacon and Steve, though Clint and Thor don’t have to know that. Steve has on a t-shirt and gym shorts that are both tight and not tight enough, in Bucky’s opinion. He’s got muscles that flex and ripple as he moves, in a most tantalizing way. 

It’s hard not to stare outright, but he manages it and gets in a few glances; he can’t deny the physical attraction he feels for the man. Not this time. There it is, smacking him in the face. _Want. Need._ That’s a lot to deal with while playing basketball, so he pushes it away, and, not wanting to get caught staring, he looks back at Clint to distract himself. 

“You do much cooking, Clint?”

“Absolutely,” Clint answers, and smiles mischievously. “Thor and I are constantly working on new recipes.”

Thor snorts loudly. “Brewing beer does not count as cooking, brother.”

Clint nods with vigor. “It does the way _you_ do it!” He tips his head towards Bucky’s. “He put clove in the last batch. Fucking _clove_!”

Thor points at him. “That batch is delicious, I’ll have you know. Bucky can vouch for that.”

“I can,” Bucky agrees. He gives Zeus’s leash a tug, as his dog has stopped to sniff at something invisible in the grass. 

Thor chuckles quietly as they get close enough to be in earshot of the court. “Let’s give Steve some shit. Were you coming in or out when you met him?”

“He was just unlocking his door to go in.”

“Alright!” Clint claps his hands and then cups them around his mouth. “Hey Rogers, Bucky told us he already met you. He said you locked yourself out of your apartment again.”

Thor follows up immediately. “How many times have we discussed this? The key goes into your pocket _before_ you leave your apartment.”

Bucky has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling and laughing as Steve turns red and looks like someone just accused him of pissing his pants. 

“I did NOT lock myself out of my apartment!” he yells back seriously, and the three men approaching can’t contain their laughter any longer. It comes out in fitful spurts, and Steve realizes they’re just yanking his chain.

“You guys suck,” he berates them, and Bucky enjoys the cute way his lips pout as Thor gets in the last word on the matter.

Zeus has to start another round of barks, and Bucky searches around for one of the metal eye hooks sunk into the ground for leashes while he does so. Once he gets the leash hooked, Steve approaches and squats down in front of the little black dog, extending his hand. 

He looks up at Bucky before getting too close. “Does he bite?” 

Bucky shakes his head negatively. “Only if he feels threatened.”

As he is introduced to Peter Quill, out of the corner of his eye he watches Steve make friends with his dog. It gives him a sense of domestic bliss, watching their interaction, and he can’t help smiling. Zeus doesn’t like it when strangers get in his face, but Bucky doesn’t have to worry. Steve at least knows how to meet dogs without being threatening and raising their hackles. After Bucky shakes Peter’s hand, Steve stands and they separate into two teams. Bucky’s not sure how it happens, but Steve takes on the assignment of guarding him as Thor sends the ball inbounds. 

Steve is _handsy._ Not that Bucky _minds_ , because Steve has the kind of hands he likes. He’s not grabbing, pinching or pushing off of him. He’s just keeping him close, feeling where he is, and his touch feels damn good, despite the heat. He doesn’t know if they all guard this way, or just Steve, but whatever. It’s fucking awesome. He gets to guard Steve in turn, and while he’s not so touchy feely, he does get in close and get a few good slides of his hands over the wide expanse of his back. 

It’s been a long time since he’s touched another man in any way that’s meaningful, and he didn’t really realize how touch-starved he was until now. Though his pulse spikes every time he lays hands on Steve, he tells himself it’s all innocent fun, nothing to get bent out of shape over. There’s nothing wrong with looking, or just a little bit of touching. So Steve is gorgeous and addictive to stare at, so what? It doesn’t _mean_ anything. Problem is, now that’s he touched him, he just wants more, like it started a chain reaction he can’t control. But that’s something he’s going to have to figure out later. Right now he’s too busy to think about it. 

When the game is over and Clint tears off his shirt, Bucky decides to follow suit. It’s really fucking hot out, and getting that sweaty shirt off feels better. Plus, he’s hoping Steve will join them in the shirtless club. He grabs his water bottle and takes a drink, and when he turns around he seems to have missed something. Did Steve just trip? He doesn’t seem the clumsy type, but looks like he’s recovering from some sort of stumble, and Clint is laughing at him. 

They share some small talk and Bucky is thrilled to hear they have a Fantasy Football league he can join. Last year he played in a random league, and it wasn’t much fun at all. It’s really so much better to play with people you know. And of course, he can’t resist working in a crack about bingo to tease Steve. After that, he wants to get Zeus back inside, before they both overheat. 

They start heading in, and Clint takes his email address for future football use. Steve surprises him by asking what his plans are for the night. Is he just being friendly? Or is it more? The _more_ both excites him and scares him, after the reaction Bucky had to him today. He wants to get to know him, and yet the idea seems risky. What if he can’t control his physical desire? He’s like a moth being drawn to flame. Will Steve burn him? _Not if you don’t get too close_. Yeah. Just don’t get too close. Problem solved.


	3. Aliens Don't Need Websites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky's first golf outing gives Bucky a well-utilized opportunity for ogling. Movie night with Darcy gives her a well-utilized opportunity to give him a hard time. That's what friends are for, right?

Chapter Three

It’s Sunday morning when there is a firm knock on Bucky’s door, right at the appointed time. He’s at the door straight away, eager to go, and takes one of the golf bags off of Steve’s shoulder at the door. 

“Here, let me take that,” he offers, pulling the bag down by the strap. He touches the rounded contour of Steve’s shoulder as he does so, and rather enjoys the way that feels. All hard, smooth muscle. He’s got to admit, his polo shirt laying snug across his pecs is quite mesmerizing, too. Steve thanks him, and Bucky thanks him back for agreeing to this in the first place. Steve’s eyes move past him and down to the floor where Zeus sits, observing the proceedings. 

_How is it that Steve’s not dating anyone?_ He ponders this as Steve says hi to his dog. It makes no sense at _all_ , but hey, he’s not looking that gift horse in the mouth. And it’s not that he’s changed his mind about dating… but a little bit of innocent flirting could be therapeutic for him. Doesn’t have to lead anywhere. And Steve might not even be interested, anyway. So it’s harmless! 

After a brief discussion about Zeus’s barking and sleeping habits, which Bucky assumed no one in the world would care about except for himself, they are off. He mentions his disappointment at missing basketball yesterday because of the rain, and Steve agrees with his sentiment. In addition he even pays Bucky a little unexpected compliment.

“You know,” he says, looking at him as they go down the hall, bags swinging over their shoulders, “You’re better than you let on.”

Feeling himself smile, Bucky considers how to answer that. _I’m surprised you noticed, in between all the pawing_ crosses his mind, but he doesn’t want to _discourage_ Steve from any physical contact, so he decides to deflect back to Steve’s play.

“And you’re pretty handsy when you guard. Shoulda been at least five personal fouls on you.”

His companion laughs but also turns a few shades redder. “Sam hates playing against me,” he confesses, and _oh._

Maybe they’re _not_ all as handsy as Steve. 

The idea that Steve might have paid him extra attention while they played now commands Bucky’s full attention, including attention from a part of him that is stationed down south. He’s feeling quite warm down there. Warm…and a teeny bit aroused. More than a teeny bit. Maybe now’s a good time for a little test of that flirting. 

“Maybe he just can’t handle you like I can. Besides, I said I played MORE baseball, not that I didn’t play ANY basketball.” 

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Steve fires back, and is the scarlet shade of his neck and cheeks deepening? _Yes._ Excellent. He gets the feeling Steve doesn’t do that much flirting and really, why would he have to? The guy probably has to beat both men and women off with a stick. Plus, he’s too honest and gullible to be the Casanova sort. But it’s good to know Bucky can get to him if he tries. Steve looks adorable when he’s flustered, with that shy little smile and the way he runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up more in the front. 

They’ve made it outside now, into the bright morning light, and Steve motions with his head to his vehicle, a black Land Rover. Aces. Bucky grimaces when the backs of his thighs touch the hot leather of the seat. Definitely not aces, but they both grin and bear it. One of the downfalls of summer. As they drive the short distance to the driving range, they talk about Thor and Sam, then their jobs, and then briefly about their upbringings. 

Steve is forthcoming and open in a way that is sweetly unnerving. Bucky hasn’t let his guard down with many people, but Steve feels easy to talk to, so he knows he’s been word vomiting the whole way over. Strangely though, he doesn’t care. _Steve isn’t threatening_ , he realizes as he climbs out of the car. Aside from being so attractive it’s almost scary, there’s nothing about him that triggers Bucky to raise his shields. Standing and stretching, he pulls his shorts off of the backs of his legs. 

That…feels good. Weird, but good. Letting his guard down, that is, not his shorts sticking to his legs. When you’ve become accustomed to not trusting people, finding someone who doesn’t make you feel prickly and suspicious is like finding a needle in a haystack. And for a while there, the only person Bucky trusted outside of family was Darcy. Steve just has this disarming quality about him. 

And a really fine ass. Covertly he checks him out as they walk into the golf shop to purchase buckets of balls; the older gentleman working behind the counter is friendly, but looks bored. He supposes it's a pretty brain dead job. Bucky insists he pay for the buckets, despite Steve’s objections. It’s the least he can do, he figures, for getting free lessons. They make their way out onto the driving range. It’s long and well populated, but they do find an empty spot. 

As they thread their way down past the other golfers, many in plaid shorts and bright golf shirts, Steve shuts him down when Bucky suggests they go putt first. It’s not in a bossy way, but Steve is apparently taking the role of instructor quite seriously. Maybe Sam wasn’t kidding about that fourth for their league. So like a good pupil, Bucky lets him decide what they’ll do first; that turns out to be beneficial, because he finds Steve to be a great teacher. 

They stop in the scrubby grass, plop down their buckets and set up tees. Steve explains things very succinctly, and at a pace Bucky can follow, as though he remembers how difficult it is to take everything in at once. Because it’s a _lot_. A lot more than he bargained for. Really, swinging a golf club doesn’t _seem_ hard or complicated. Bucky figured as long as his club was pointed in the right direction, he’d be able to make the ball go wherever he wanted. 

It’s not that simple. 

It feels like every body part has to be addressed. Step one toe out of line, and it apparently spells disaster for your swing. In fact, it’s so ridiculously hard, he’d chuck it except for the fact that his teacher’s demonstration of a golf stroke is like watching porn. A bead of perspiration trickles down the center of Bucky’s back. The sun is hot on the top of his head, but that’s not the only reason he’s sweating already. The fact that Steve’s broad shoulders rotate as he swings the club, showcasing his slender hips? Only vaguely distracting. His powerful thighs? Hardly noticed them. That firm, clutchable ass? Didn’t register at all. 

Bucky does his best to concentrate. On golf. He can feel the warmth in his cheeks, and when he looks up at Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice that his cheeks are a little flushed as well. Thank goodness it _is_ hot out, to cover for his untimely sweaty state. _Stop staring at his face. He’s showing you what to do._ Bucky’s eyes only partially follow his brain’s instructions. 

Steve explains the stance verbally plus demonstrates it over and over, showing him how to swing as he talks. Bucky is focusing on how his feet are supposed to be placed when Steve tries to correct his hand grip. 

“Here, like this,” he suggests, showing him his hands on his own club. 

Bucky attempts to copy them, moving his hands farther apart. Steve then takes a step closer to him and touches him to move his thumb to the other side of the hand grip, and isn’t that just lovely. His hand is gentle but firm as it guides his thumb, and Bucky wishes it was a bigger body part that needed fixing, so maybe Steve would have to use both hands.

“Oh…yeah, thanks,” he manages to choke out, while his brain is busy manufacturing a picture of Steve pressed up behind him with his palms flat against his hips, fingers pressing into the crests of his hip bones. That image he files away in the back of his mind for later recall, so he can concentrate on his swing in the present. It probably looks awful, but Steve is upbeat and encouraging, giving him helpful pointers. Swinging a club does NOT feel natural at first, there’s so much to coordinate. 

“This is a lot to think about all at once, Steve,” he comments, and gets a warm smile and more encouragement in return. 

That makes him double down on his efforts, and finally he’s ready to try actually hitting the ball. He lines up, puts his head down, takes a giant swing… and misses. 

Completely.

A clod of grass and dirt goes flying out in front of him, while the ball sits untouched on the tee. It’s pretty embarrassing, and he feels like an uncoordinated boob, but he can see the humor in the situation. Steve does too; when he looks up, he is working hard to conceal a smile. 

“I meant to do that,” Bucky says in jest, and Steve is so patient and sweet, Bucky melts on the inside. 

Steve doesn’t get frustrated with him at all, he just gives more instruction and has him try again. Bucky gets him to demonstrate a proper swing again as well, watching him from the front and the back. When he moves around behind him, though, Steve seems to get nervous for some reason. It takes him extra long to ready himself, (which gives Bucky more time to stare at his amazing ass) and then when he drives, the ball doesn’t go straight down the range like his other shots did. Instead it shoots off at a sharp angle and looks pretty horrible, even to Bucky’s untrained eye. 

He allows a satisfied grin to spread across his face as Steve declares dryly, “That’s what you call a slice,” and brings his gaze back to Bucky’s eyes.

“Good to know you do it, too,” Bucky gloats, just a little, before setting up another ball on his own tee. 

Then there’s more practice. And more instruction. Shit, golf is fucking _hard_. How many different ways can his stance and swing be wrong?

After Steve corrects him for the four hundredth time, Bucky teases him, eyes down on the ball, “You’re pretty demanding.”

“But you can handle me, remember?” Steve shoots back immediately, and Bucky freezes in place.

He bites back the retort that initially springs to mind-- _I sure as fuck want to_. It makes him smile in spite of himself. Where the hell did that come from? What’s gotten into him today? Steve is having some kind of crazy effect on him, that’s for sure. He shakes his head to clear it and returns his attention to his golf swing, before he gets the urge to sidle up next to his hot instructor and dry hump his leg, right there on the course. 

They finish up without any other heavy flirting going on, and Bucky feels pretty exhausted from using his muscles in such an unfamiliar way. He must not have done too badly, because Steve does offer to keep coming back with him, and Bucky makes it clear he’d prefer that to coming alone. No pun intended. But now that he’s thinking about it…

\--

“Tell Becca I give it two thumbs up!”

Darcy sits on one of Bucky’s armchairs, with Zeus tucked into her side, head on her knee and fast asleep. Bucky is currently in the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to stop popping in the microwave, so Darcy has to shout to be heard over the noise. She holds up her two thumbs in the air just to drive her point home. 

“I’ll be sure to tell her you approve of the way she bossed me around,” he jokes. The microwave has stopped, so he carefully grabs the bag from inside and shakes it before opening it. The steamy contents get dumped into a big glass bowl that is taken to the living room, along with two sodas. 

Darcy makes a grab for the bowl as soon as Bucky gets within arm’s reach. “Honestly though, the new place looks great,” she compliments him. 

He sits down next to her on the couch, setting both sodas down on the coffee table and picking up the remote. Darcy has on loose shorts and a tank top. And five necklaces. She may overdress for work, but she does shlep it up to some degree for movie night. As Bucky starts scrolling through Netflix, she digs in. 

“So, have you met the neighbors yet?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers absentmindedly, looking for the movie he wants. “Thor introduced me to a bunch of his friends already.”

That this was the end of his sentence is an affront to Darcy, and her disgusted groan makes that pretty obvious. “Aaaaaaand?” She draws the word out for a few seconds.

He finds the title he wants and clicks on it, then looks at his friend. “And they’re great! We’ve already played basketball, and they’re letting me into their Fantasy Football league.”

Darcy’s eyes cross. “Like I care about your Fantasy shit. Tell me about the friends. Are they hot like Thor?”

Bucky chuckles. Leave it to Darcy to get right down to brass tacks. “Come to think of it, they are a pretty good-looking bunch. Well above average as a whole.” 

Darcy glances at the TV screen and does a double take. “Aliens again? I thought we were going to watch one of the Matrix movies!”

Bucky pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “Please, Darce? I’m not in the mood for Keanu right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright! You know I can’t take the eyes of sadness!” She holds up an index finger and points at him. “But you have to give me details on everyone. Hottest ones first.”

He smiles, eyes dancing, and fast forwards through the opening credits. “Sure. Pass me the popcorn, if you’re just going to sit there and hoard it in your lap.” 

She holds out the bowl and sets it on the armrest between them so he can snag a handful. She pops a few pieces into her own mouth as well. “I get extra popcorn just for sitting through this movie again.”

Bucky frowns studiously. “You know this is one of the best movies ever made.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “But that doesn’t mean I want to watch it fifty million times. Those aliens give me the heebie jeebies.”

“But Ripley! And Hicks!” he says defensively, and she laughs at his stubborn devotion. 

“Just get on with it already!” she scolds him playfully. 

It’s like this every movie night. One person’s turn to pick, the other person’s turn to whine about what gets picked. But neither of them ever miss out on a movie night. 

Bucky presses the play button, takes a sip of his drink, then settles back on the couch. “So, there’s Steve, who lives two doors down. He’s a web designer, and he…”

He is cut off when Darcy perks up and interrupts him. “A web designer?”

“Yeah.” As far as Bucky is concerned, that’s the least interesting thing about Steve. “He already made friends with Zeus, even though he’s never owned a dog before.”

“Zeus gave him the seal of approval?”

Bucky nods and glances at the TV. Not to the good part yet. “Surprisingly, yes. Even let him pet him.”

Darcy looks down at the sleeping dog next to her, suitably impressed, then back up. “Hmm. You know who could use a good web designer?”

Bucky crams more popcorn into his mouth and mumbles, “No one I know. Steve’s teaching me how to golf, too.” Darcy’s not going to take him down this road again, and anyway, hot and sexy Steve is more fun to talk about. Web designer Steve sounds boring. 

“Oh?” Darcy seems entertained by the notion of Bucky golfing. “You always did want to learn.” She drops more popcorn into her mouth, chews and swallows. “Now stop ignoring me. How long are you going to resist establishing a business presence online?”

Bucky sips his soda and mentally rolls his eyes. “As long as I possibly can. Steve said I did really well our first time out. He’s a really good teacher.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow at him until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Oh, come on, Darce, I’m busy enough as it is. I don’t need a website to bring in business, we get enough by word of mouth.”

“That’s not the point,” she articulates stiffly.

Bucky curls his lip. He doesn’t need a damn _online business presence_. It’s a recurrent argument that refuses to go away, but Darcy’s not getting the better of him tonight. He smiles toothily. “Did I mention Steve is teaching me to golf?” 

Darcy really does roll her eyes, and turns to the television. “Eww! Alien in the tummy!” she screeches, picking her knees up and bringing them to her chest. Next to her, Zeus lifts his head groggily, in case there’s a threat he needs to bark at. Seeing none, his head drops back down in disappointment.

Bucky swivels his head to the screen as well and tucks a strand of hair back behind one ear. First good part! “I wonder if Steve likes science fiction,” he says absently, and doesn’t notice Darcy’s eyes settle on him in curiosity.

“You’re talking about this Steve guy a lot,” she finally notices. “Just how hot is he?”

Bucky shrugs and shovels in more popcorn. Maybe he overshared. Better dial it back before her radar picks anything up. “Moderately hot.”

It’s too late. “Moderately hot?” she repeats suspiciously. “You said the group was well above average as a whole.”

“Oh, so you just decided to start listening to me _today_?” he razzes. “Well listen to this…aliens don’t need websites, and neither do I,” he finishes with a sarcastic flourish, making a face at her.

All he gets in return is a breathy “Hmmpphh,” two arms crossed over her chest, and some side eye. 

Whatever. Aliens is on!


	4. I Want... Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has figured out he's attracted to Steve. He hasn't figured out what to do about it. It's safer just to stay friends, but does he want that? Hell if he knows.

Chapter Four

After golfing with Steve on Sunday-- _especially_ after golfing with Steve, Bucky realized there was some major physical attraction going on there. Only natural, obviously. Steve is quite a specimen to behold. He didn’t realize just _how_ major that attraction was, until the next morning…when he woke with a woody the size of Manhattan, and the image of Steve filling his mind. 

Steve, blue eyed, gorgeous…and naked. Granted, he hasn’t actually seen Steve naked yet, but his dream-state imagination worked very hard to compensate for that. It’s early morning when he wakes, so early it’s barely light out, and when he glances at his alarm clock, he sees he’s got plenty of time. Time to follow this train of thought to its inevitable, yet rewarding, conclusion. His hand sneaks down over his boxer briefs, finding the base of his erection and moving over it slowly.

He lets out an involuntary groan as he curls his fingers around himself and drags his fingertips up to the head of his cock, rubbing over it in a slow rhythm. What would it be like to have Steve’s hands on him? He imagines the slightly bigger man lying over him on the bed, his toned body pressing down on him, and strokes himself a few times over his underwear. Slowly, purposefully, giving his thoughts free rein. His body responds, cock twitching spasmodically as he palms himself. 

Another image comes into focus—Steve, kissing him as his hand works Bucky over. Steve, pressing his tongue into his mouth, stroking him hard and fast, till Bucky spills all over his hand. _Oh yeah_. He presses his fingertips in at the tip of his hard length; there is a tiny wet spot where he’s leaking, but it’s not enough. Not for what he wants. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, and reaches over to pull open the bedside table drawer. Out comes the bottle of lube. 

Squirting some onto his fingers and palm, he then jams his hand down his pants and coats his erection with it. Another low moan is teased from the back of his throat as he touches himself, his cock is so hard and ready. He strokes himself in earnest now, wanting to chase that feeling he had when he first woke. Steve’s face swims in front of his eyes and he squeezes them shut tightly. Wonders what it would be like in bed with him, to lay his hands on every part of that fantastic body.

Better yet, how it would feel getting his mouth on Steve’s dick. Oh God, there’s a thought. Steve’s thick, stiff cock, sliding in and out between his lips. Bucky speeds up the motion of his hand, pulling and twisting over himself to create that sweet friction and heat. He can feel it building in his groin, that delicious, hot tingle that starts low and grows until it fills him up. 

His breaths are coming quickly, shallowly now, and he kicks off the sheet that was covering him. Zeus is lying near the other corner on his side; his head lifts briefly, then drops and he ignores his master. _Thank goodness he doesn't want to go out_ , Bucky thinks. This would be a most inopportune time for that.

His hand slides easily over his hot skin, thanks to the lube. He rubs up and down the full length of his erection, gritting his teeth and pressing his head back into his pillow, and it feels so fucking good. Inside his head, he can hear the noises Steve would make as he sucked him off, with his mouth wrapped around that glorious length, kneeling in front of him and looking up at that face while he swallowed him down over and over. 

A breathy, needy sigh fills the air in the bedroom as he imagines what Steve would taste like. What his skin would feel like. It’s too much and not enough. His body feels like it’s on fire everywhere and it’s starting…oh fuck yes, it’s starting, the waves of pleasure that mean he’s going to peak soon. He’s thrusting his hips up, pushing his cock into his hand with each pass, but his hand is moving so fast, his pelvis can’t keep up. Finally it’s just his hand moving, palm rough against the sensitized skin, stroking himself in short, quick swipes, vibrating his cock on his palm. His chest heaves up and down and Steve’s image grows larger yet; he’s almost lightheaded.

The vision that puts him over the edge is of Steve, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open, chest slightly sweaty, calling out Bucky’s name as he orgasms with Bucky’s mouth still on his dick. _FUCK_. His heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Bucky gasps and comes all over his hand and stomach, with spurts of white fluid making a sticky mess everywhere, and it’s like he was struck by lightning. He’s burning up all over, in the best way that can possibly feel.

He continues pumping his hand up and down, wringing out every second of pleasure he can. Feels like his release lasts an eternity, and he keeps milking his cock until it finally softens, and the spasms of ecstasy that judder through his body like pulses of electricity fade.

Holy fuck, did that feel good. He lies there, panting but feeling so relaxed, he might not have a skeleton anywhere inside his mass of quivering muscles. Jacking off to Steve’s image just gave him the best orgasm he’s had in months. It’s also the only one to make him want to possibly replace the mental image with the real thing. 

What the hell? Did he really just think that? Wow. It’s been…a long time. Maybe Becca was right, and he’s waited long enough, at least to be with someone physically. The emotional part? He considers that as his breathing slows and returns to normal. Nope. Still not ready for that. But _Steve_. What does he want from Steve? _Good question._

\--

So that was his unusually good start to a Monday morning. He spends the rest of the week thinking on what to do about Steve. His sister’s comment bounces around inside his head like a superball set loose. _I’d be happy if you had a one night stand._ Does he want that? _Kind of._ The problem there is, usually you never see your one-night stand after the fact. Steve lives in the building. And Bucky actually _likes_ him as a person. Awkward. 

It would be weird to keep hanging out with that group of guys after something like that, and he wants to keep hanging out with them. It’s a problem. A problem he does not want to discuss with his overprotective, overeager sister. Darcy is a possibility, but even then he’s hesitant to bring it up after taking heat during movie night for blabbing about Steve too much. 

Better lie low. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea and think he’s ready to jump back into the dating pool. Hell, he doesn’t even want to dip a toe in. Seems he can rest easy, though; all week long, Darcy doesn’t bring up the subject. She seems to have let it go, allowing Bucky some space and time to think about things. 

Until Friday.

Bucky went straight in to a work site Friday morning, so he doesn’t see his office manager until late afternoon. As soon as he shows his face at the office, though, he knows he’s somehow skated onto thin ice. She scowls at him, hands on hips as he comes in through the door and strolls past the counter and desk. 

“Moderately attractive?” she say, voice dripping scorn.

“Pardon me?” 

At first, he really has no idea what she’s talking about, and looks at her blankly.

“I had two visitors last night,” she explains, holding up her index and middle fingers in a V. “Thor and Steve.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “What?” he breathes, and suppresses a smile when she stomps one booted foot on the floor.

“Moderately attractive?” she repeats, voice more shrill this time.

He presses his lips together, but a snort of laughter escapes. Darcy _hates_ not being in the know. That he deliberately downplayed Steve’s attractiveness factor when talking to her is like pouring oil on a fire. 

She tosses her hair back over her shoulder fitfully. “He’s so hot, he should have planets revolving around him!” Her red lips purse as Bucky snickers, and she goes on. “I think I might have been temporarily blinded when he walked into the office, just from all the pretty!”

Bucky smiles widely in spite of himself. She’s so _pissed._ It’s so _funny!_

Darcy, on the other hand, is not amused. “And Steve and Thor together? My eyes were crossing, trying to look at both of them at the same time! How could you do this to me?”

Bucky is openly laughing now, sitting on the edge of the desk and smiling uncontrollably. “Darce, come on,” he pleads, half serious. She’s not _really_ mad, is she?

“You tell me right now, and you tell me the truth,” she threatens, pointing at him. “Is he gay or straight?”

He hesitates for a second, then answers truthfully and seriously. “Gay.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Of course he is. Goddamnit!”

That elicits a fresh gale of laughter from her companion. She tries again.

“Any chance he’s bi?”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “Thor said gay.” His body shakes silently as he tries to control himself. 

“Oh sure, laugh it up,” she says disparagingly, sitting down in her chair and throwing one leg over the other. “I’ll soon have my revenge.”

Whoa. That wipes the smile off his face.

“What does that mean?” he questions nervously.

Her smile is pure wickedness. “It means I told him you want him to build a website for you.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. “You didn’t.”

“Did.” 

She points at him sharply. “And no backing out. You do and I’ll kick your ass.”

She means it. 

\--

Knowing Darcy’s persistent nature means he should accept defeat gracefully, Bucky decides to stop by Steve’s apartment that evening and ask about the website. The cat’s out of the bag, so he might as well go and talk to him about it. After getting Zeus squared away with dinner and a walk, he heads over to Steve’s door. His neighbor answers it wearing comfy clothes that hint he’s staying in for the night, but Bucky asks if he’s interrupting anything, anyway, just to be sure.

When he’s not, he is invited in and plops down onto a couch that is unexpectedly very squishy and comfortable. _This couch would be great for naps._ When Steve asks, he doesn’t beat around the bush, instead straight away admitting the reason he’s there. 

Steve gives him a smirk, but seems to think it’s more amusing than pathetic that Bucky doesn’t have a website. He asks point blank if he even wants one, rather than assuming he does just because Darcy said so. Bucky appreciates the thoughtfulness. Last chance to back out. Steve’s giving him the opportunity right now. 

He considers it but ultimately decides to press on, for two reasons. One, because Darcy really will kick his ass, and two, if he’s gotta do this, what better person to do it than Steve? Maybe the process will be less unpalatable with someone he knows. Once he asks and Steve agrees to take on the task, he breathes a little easier. 

Then Steve spouts some mumbo-jumbo about graphics and baselines, and even though he does that delightful thing where he pushes his hair up straight off his forehead, it doesn’t make Bucky feel less nervous. But Steve promises it will be painless, so…

“When do you want to start?” he asks him. 

He is surprised when Steve offers to get to work right now. And even more surprised when Steve stands up and rubs his stomach.

“I need nachos,” he announces. 

“You need nachos?” Bucky repeats. God, is that cute or what? He needs nachos. 

He can’t help smiling as Steve bustles off to the kitchen. When he returns, he dumps a plate of nachos and two bottles of water down on the coffee table, then disappears again down the hallway to the bedrooms, returning quickly with his laptop computer. Bucky is already stuffing one cheese-laden nacho into his mouth when Steve sits down, then pops back up again and runs to the kitchen for napkins. It’s sweet, how freaking domestic he is. 

And the nachos are good. The cheese is a little hot, but nothing he can’t handle. Not so for Steve, though. He nearly spits his back out when he burns his mouth. The look on his face is priceless. 

“By the way, they’re hot,” Bucky says helpfully. Steve looks like maybe he needs first aid. Or a snowbank. 

“Yow,” he says, and downs about half his bottle of water. “That didn’t burn your mouth?”

What? Food’s not good if it doesn’t scald you. “Naw,” he says, shrugging, “I like things hot.”

Steve looks at him like maybe those words mean something else entirely, and Bucky feels his lungs constrict. He likes that look. A lot. It’s starting to feel warm in there.

But it’s on to business, and Bucky does alright with the basic information. It isn’t until they get to the part where he’s got to pick out the fancy stuff that he gets the jitters. Darcy would be so much better at this. He can pick out cabinetry, and flooring, and lighting, and a million other things at work without qualms, but this? Why is this so intimidating? _Because you don’t like computers,_ he reminds himself. Sure, he uses them for work when he needs to, but he’d much rather have a hammer or a saw in his hands. Computers are just…bleah. 

Steve does his best to encourage him and Bucky thinks for the twentieth time just what a considerate person he is, but he still waffles. He waffles enough that the web designer finally offers to allow Darcy to help, and Bucky grabs that lifeline with both hands. 

“Would you mind?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t. He feels like a dork again, but Steve just smiles. 

“Of course not,” he affirms, and he seems to mean it. _Win!_ Darcy will be terrific at picking this shit out. 

Once they are as far into the project as they can get without Darcy’s input, Steve is nice enough to ask him to stay and finish the baseball game they had on the TV. Sounds like he had the same plan Bucky had for the night. Bucky wants to say yes, then feels a twinge of nervousness before the words come out. Why not stay? He can watch the game here just as well as he can at home. 

The nerves must be because he hasn’t figured out yet what he wants from Steve. And he doesn’t know what Steve is willing to offer. Steve hasn’t made any passes at him, after all. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t ever brought up his sexuality at all. Might be a good place to start. And if things get too intense, Bucky can always back off. That’s the benefit of this conversation not taking place at a bar, where the opportunity comes around basically once and then is gone. He’s got an infinite number of opportunities to talk to Steve. Suddenly, staying seems like a FABULOUS idea. 

“Sure,” he agrees, hoping that didn’t sound _too_ eager.

“And I’ve got more nachos,” Steve reveals. 

“Excellent!” Nachos, _and_ talking to the hot guy. Good plan. 

He goes with the hot guy this time when he heads back into the kitchen for another round of food, hopping onto one of the barstools as Steve skirts the peninsula and grabs a large bag of nacho chips. 

“Do you cook much?” Bucky asks, as Steve turns away and peers into the refrigerator. 

He comes up with more cheese, dumping it all over the corn chips generously, and tells Bucky about the deaths of his parents and his subsequent forced introduction to self-sufficiency. As he talks, Bucky watches his eyes. There’s no self-pity in them, though Bucky certainly sympathizes with the difficult situation he must have found himself in, pretty much alone in the world. 

Bucky doesn’t take his family for granted really, but he never spent much time considering what it would be like to be without one either. It’s not a pleasant thought. Suddenly his sister’s meddling doesn’t seem as annoying, and he feels the urge to call his mom when he gets back to his own apartment. But Steve isn’t working the orphan angle; he uses the same tone of voice to ask if Bucky likes olives that he used to explain his family history. Straightforward and factual. 

And Bucky loves olives. He grabs the jar as it comes sliding down the counter toward him and twists the lid off, breathing in the smell. His heart strings have been plucked, though. 

“So you don’t have much family around?” he poses the question gently, not wanting to pry too much. 

“Not much,” Steve admits, but doesn’t dwell on it. He’s smiling as he finds the jar of salsa he’s been tearing his cupboard apart looking for. Really, Steve, put the short jars in the _front_.

As they finish spreading their toppings onto the plate of nacho chips, Bucky realizes it’s the opening he’s been looking for. He pops the question. “You don’t have any special guy in your life?” 

“No,” Steve answers without hesitation, and all of the air inside Bucky’s lungs tries to rush out at once. 

_He’s not dating anyone_. One side of his brain wants to throw a party, while the other side throws cold water on that idea. _So what? You don’t want to date him, either._ Mentally he argues with himself. _Yeah, but I do want…something._

His eyes are drawn back to Steve’s as an eyebrow is lifted; Steve stares at him pointedly before motioning with his head back to the living room. He has the tray in his hands as they journey back to the baseball game. Bucky knows he’s got to ‘fess up, but tries to joke about it so it won’t seem like an overt overture. He rats out Thor as they sit down, then claims to have needed character references for the website job. _Character references?_

Yes, it’s dumb, but all he could think of on the spur of the moment. Steve is blushing slightly as he smiles at him and his blue eyes are sparkly, which is completely adorable, so whatever. Yay for dumb jokes. He smiles back and enjoys the happy look on Steve’s face. He actually looks _pleased_ that Bucky asked questions about him, so what does that mean? Is Steve interested? Bucky shoves some nachos into his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk right away, fearing his voice will come out sounding like a nervous teenager.

He’s getting into unfamiliar territory here; a tiny part of him hopes that Steve asks him out, while the larger part of him thinks that would be a nightmare. _Why ruin a good thing?_ His subconscious stubbornly insists that the current state of affairs is perfectly acceptable. Adding a romantic dynamic would only cause problems. _Just enjoy it right now. Right now is good. Right now is safe._

Fortunately, Steve doesn’t press for anything that would make Bucky’s head explode. He asks about innocuous things like work that Bucky can talk about without having a mental breakdown. It isn’t until Bucky mentions Thor again, and the information he’s been passing to him, that gets him into trouble. It seems Thor hasn’t only been talking to Bucky.

“He’s told me some things too…that you don’t date, for instance,” Steve says, and Bucky freezes.

He didn’t expect the shoe to be on the other foot. It’s not that he asked Thor to stay silent, he just hadn’t considered the possibility that Steve would’ve asked about his past. Butterflies start taking flight inside his stomach and he squirms in his chair. _It’s just a few innocent questions. You can handle it._

“Oh…uh…yeah,” he mumbles. _Very smooth._ “I was in a pretty long relationship that ended a while back.” _Breathe._

“And then?” Steve wants more detail. Why does he want more detail? 

Bucky tries unsuccessfully not to sigh as he thinks about how to answer such questions. Steve was honest enough to share his past, so Bucky can at least skim the surface of his own.

“It didn’t end well. Since then I couldn’t…I mean I haven’t…” 

The words refuse to come out. Why is it so hard to revisit that part of his life, and those feelings? He’s had plenty of time to work through it. Plenty of time to make peace with what happened, and close that book. But he hasn’t. 

“Haven’t wanted to see anyone else?” Steve asks, and while he sounds understanding, the hair stands up on the back of Bucky’s neck as he goes into defensive mode. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” he replies vaguely. 

Does he still love his ex-boyfriend? No. That’s not the problem. The problem is not being able to believe anyone’s words, take them at face value anymore. What kind of person is that suspicious? What kind of person suspects ulterior motives first, and the possibility that a partner could be telling him the honest truth second? _A damaged person_ , he thinks. 

“Maybe you just need to get back on the horse again?”

 _No._ The word is inside his head before he even processes what Steve said. Another mental wall goes up. God, would Bucky be a shit boyfriend right now. He can’t let a man get close to him…how stressful would that be? No. Being alone is better. Better for any potential suitor, and for himself. He can only count on himself, and no one else. 

“Maybe the saddle just doesn’t fit anymore,” he says softly, more to himself than to the man sitting next to him. 

Maybe he’ll never have that kind of love again in his life. Maybe he’ll always be alone. Bucky realizes he’s got his arms crossed so tightly in front of his chest, he’s slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. He stands and takes a breath, needing to get out of there before Steve realizes what a basket case he is. _Try to act normally._ He manages a smile before turning for the door. 

“I’d better get back. See you in the morning?”

“Definitely.” 

Good. Steve is smiling. Perhaps he hasn’t picked up on what a loony tune he is yet. 

\--

The next morning, Bucky has successfully repressed all of the introspective thoughts he was having about his past the night before. What good does it do to dwell on how inept he is at working through those feelings? He tells himself that stuff will work itself out eventually. He doesn’t need to harp on it. 

He and Zeus are about ready to go when Steve stops at his door to collect them and head out into the courtyard. They play two on two ball, taking turns with one person sitting out. Steve guards him again…and gets pretty touchy feely again. Does Bucky mind? Not in the slightest. But are the hands noticeable? Apparently, because Thor starts in on Steve first chance he gets. 

“Steve, who taught you how to guard, anyway, an octopus? Why don’t you just tackle him?”

Clint follows up with another crack. “Don’t give him ideas.” 

Steve looks slightly embarrassed but also unrepentant, and somehow it makes Bucky feel like he ate sunshine for breakfast. He’s got a grin on his face as he teases Steve how his grandmother could guard him tougher than that. He’s so distracted by Steve, he almost misses the sound of Clint’s head getting whacked by Peter. What that’s all about he’s not too worried, because Steve is looking at him like he ate sunshine for breakfast, too. 

Once again he wonders if maybe there’s interest on Steve’s part in dating. Maybe he’s just shy, and that’s why he hasn’t tried to ask Bucky out yet. Maybe he’s waiting for Bucky to do the asking. _Gonna be waiting a long time_ , the downer part of his brain proclaims. Another part encourages Bucky to think about it, but that part is so small, he can easily drown it out with other thoughts. It’s easier just to think about how sexy Steve is. It’s safer just to keep those thoughts inside his head, and not act on them. 

It’s later in the game when Clint makes another offhand remark that gets Bucky’s undivided attention. Steve is loitering with the ball underneath one end of the court, while everyone else is heading to the other end. Thor says something about Steve marrying the ball rather than passing it down…and Clint’s next words are riveting. 

“You know Steve’s not the marrying kind.”

What? Steve’s not the marrying kind. That’s fascinating to hear. Does that mean he doesn’t date at all? Or that he just doesn’t stay with one person for long? He focuses on Steve’s face instantly and is puzzled by it…Steve looks vaguely uncomfortable. He’s staring into space like he’s deep in thought, slowly dribbling the ball without going anyplace with it. It’s an expression Bucky can’t quite peg. He wants to ask, to know more about Steve’s dating life, but not with all of the other guys present. When is the next time he’ll get Steve alone so he can wheedle some information out of him?

The other guys are razzing Steve and eventually he snaps out of it, tossing the ball down to Thor. Bucky is still watching him, trying to interpret the look on his face when Clint passes him by, and again he misses the shot but hears Clint get thwacked in the head. He’s pretty sure it’s Clint because of the _“WHAT?”_ he indignantly yells out, and he’s pretty sure it’s Thor who delivered the blow, by the way Peter and Steve are laughing. 

The tall blond doesn’t explain. He just smiles and throws Bucky the ball. The game continues without any other weirdness and when they are done, Bucky collapses with the others on the side of the court, downing the rest of the water he brought with him. He’s just about to ask Thor what time he and Peter are leaving when Steve speaks up. Clearly he forgot about the planned trip though, because he asks Thor for help moving some furniture for a friend. 

Thor reminds him of their trip rappelling, and recognition sparks in Steve’s eyes. He turns to Bucky and asks if he’s going, which he is not, having already made plans with Darcy. But those plans are for later, and there’s an opportunity to be taken advantage of here…Steve needs help, and Bucky needs some conversation time. Hmm.


	5. Mr. Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a plan. Well, a partial plan, but he'll fill in the blanks as he goes. First, get Steve alone and find out what his dating life is like. Second, figure out what the hell he wants. Along the way, he helps move a tank (okay, armoire), watches Darcy come into an unexpected windfall, and spends time with Clint and Thor, the dynamic duo.

Chapter Five

It’s fucking perfect, really. Perfect, if Bucky can keep from messing it up and not panic, like he did last time Steve asked him a simple question about his past. Steve’s going to drive him over to his friend Maria’s house, and on the way they’ll be alone in the car. Ideal time to ask him some questions. When he picks him up at his door, Bucky first has to suppress a needy groan. The t-shirt Steve is wearing looks like it was cut in the exact shape of his torso, must be made of some magical material that shrinks when it hits your skin, and hugs him just right. Everywhere. 

_Down boy._ “Does your friend live far from here?” he asks, trying to distract himself from staring at Steve’s pecs.

“Only about ten minutes, really,” Steve chirps, swinging his key ring around on his index finger as they troop down the stairs and out of the building. “And thanks for coming with me.” He turns and looks at Bucky, head tipped to the side. “I really didn’t want to ask Clint.”

“What?” Bucky has to laugh. “Why not?”

The car beeps as Steve unlocks the doors and they climb in. “Because,” he explains, swinging in his long legs and pulling his seat belt down. “He’s an engineer.”

Also buckled up, Bucky looks at him, eyebrows knitted together. “So?”

Steve chuckles and starts up the engine. “Clearly you don’t know many engineers.” 

As he backs up and pulls out of the lot, Bucky thinks about that. “Oh. He’s got a two hundred step plan for everything, right?” 

Steve smiles broadly. “Exactly. Took us twenty minutes once to get up a flight of steps with a couch.”

Bucky laughs and then falls silent till they reach the next traffic light. Talking about Clint gives him just the opening he needs to put his plan into motion. Plan get-information-about-Steve’s-dating-habits. 

“Tell me something, Steve. Clint said you’re not the marrying kind. Does that mean you don’t believe in marriage?”

Though he doesn’t exactly look surprised by the question, Steve still hesitates and licks his lips before answering. Bucky closes his eyes and pretends he didn’t just see Steve's tongue moving over those tender, plush lips.

“Uh…not exactly. I’ve always thought marriage is great, for other people. I just never considered it much for myself.”

Bucky nods. Not the settling-down type. Good to know he’s at least not diametrically opposed to marriage, though it’s not what Bucky’s real goal is with this line of questioning. That was a warm-up, to start the dialogue off in a somewhat theoretical manner. Not intensely personal. He doesn’t want to spook Steve _or_ himself by starting off heavy. But how much of a player is he? Now comes the personal part. 

“What’s the longest relationship you’ve had with someone?” This is the one he really wants the answer to, but he still doesn’t want to come off too nosy, so he tips his head and gives Steve an out. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind. I think about two months,” Steve replies, and he seems sincere. _Two months._ It’s fucking _perfect._ Steve has _never_ had a long term relationship! In his _life!_ Ordinarily that would be a red flag for Bucky, who at one point thought finding his soul mate and growing old with him sounded like the best plan ever. But that was then, and this is now. 

“Long-term relationships were never my forte,” Steve adds, looking vaguely like he’s apologizing for something.

_No shit, Sherlock. Two months?_ Bucky doesn’t want to make him feel guilty for the choices he’s made. After all, who’s to say Steve’s choices haven’t been better than his? 

He nods and tries to reassure him he doesn’t want a long commitment, either. “It’s not that I’m judging you or anything. Commitment isn’t for everyone. There’s nothing wrong with that if you’re honest about it.”

Isn’t that the goddamn truth. The heartache Bucky could have avoided if his ex had just been honest with him from the start, and not pretended to want an exclusive, monogamous relationship! Next to him, Steve opens his mouth but then closes it again without saying anything. Probably he was going to ask about Bucky’s last boyfriend. 

Bucky feels his breathing speed up a bit, but pushes the fear down. _You can talk about it with Steve. Yes, you_ can. “You’re probably the smart one, avoiding any serious relationships. I sure don’t want another one.” There. He got it out. He feels almost a sense of relief, saying this shit out loud.

“What?” Steve turns to look at him and the car swerves a bit with his gaze. He sounds shocked, so he must have thought Bucky wanted to find another serious boyfriend right away. Will this be _good_ news then? Bucky hopes so, and goes on.

“After all I went through, the idea of getting myself into the same situation again is not appealing. You’ve avoided all of that by only pursuing casual relationships.”

God, he’s a real chatty Kathy today. It’s probably the most he’s ever said on the subject since the breakup happened! Now that he knows Steve won’t have any high expectations, it feels easier to open up. It feels good to know that maybe they both want the same thing from each other…just a physical relationship. Should he dare get his hopes up that he could have that?

Steve is silent for a while and Bucky wonders what’s going through his mind. He hopes the blond is relieved to know he isn’t looking for Mr. Right, only Mr. Right Now. But then he says something Bucky wasn’t expecting.

“But, if you find that someone special, isn’t the risk worth it?”

Awww, fuck, Steve is so fucking _nice_ , he’s still encouraging him to not give up. _Too late for that, pal._ “I thought I had already,” he says out loud. Shit, that was a depressing thing to say, and Steve actually sounds sad for him. 

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky tries to lighten up the mood after that, which is a good thing since they’ve arrived at their destination. It’s a really cute house, Tudor style. He notices that the foundation looks sound, too, despite the house appearing to be on the older side. It’s been well taken care of. They exit the car and walk up to the porch, on which sits the biggest armoire Bucky has ever seen. 

The biggest. He’s ever seen.

It’s going to be a bitch to move, but he doesn’t care. The entire time they’re carrying the monster up the stairs, he’s actually thinking about what to do with this new knowledge he’s obtained. Steve’s NOT the marrying kind. And Bucky _needs_ someone who’s not the marrying kind. But he also doesn’t want him to think all he wants from him is sex, and would then drop him as a friend afterwards. 

That’s when it hits him. Friends. They set the armoire down where Maria has requested, and Steve leans his back against the door, closing his eyes in relief. Bucky leans against the adjacent door of the armoire, eyes focused on Steve’s face. Friends. With benefits. It’s fucking _perfect_. 

\--

“Darcy, which row?”

Bucky and his best friend stand at the front of the casino on Saturday night, before four rows of slot machines. The card game tables are all set up in the rear. Off on one side of the slots is a large bar and lounge area with a healthy crowd starting to fill it up, while on the other side a restaurant is housed. They actually came so Darcy could see a band she favors; they’re playing in the lounge later that evening, so the pair are killing time by playing the slots. 

“Umm…the third row. Down on the other end,” Darcy directs him. She’s decked out in a black leather skirt, tank top and sheer silk blouse open to her navel. She’s wearing enough jewelry to fill Fort Knox. 

Bucky feels slightly underdressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, but her killer looks are meant for the band, not for him, so it’s okay. He follows her down the row to some empty spots, past several elderly men and women who are NOT dressed to kill. In fact, they look like they may have been there all day long. Maybe the night before, too. Wide butts look molded to the chairs below them. 

The open floor of the casino layout means it’s obnoxiously loud, but they can still hold a conversation. Bucky pulls out a blue, vinyl padded stool for Darcy and she sits down first. He pulls out the seat next to her and examines his machine under the harsh fluorescent lighting. They’ve been to this casino before, but not very often. If he had come here without Darcy, he would go hit the blackjack tables. Darcy isn’t into that, however, so slots it is. He rubs the sides of his machine as Darcy feeds some money into hers.

“Come on, baby, be lucky for daddy,” he purrs, and Darcy laughs as she pulls her lever. 

“So how did it go with Steve?” she asks, glancing sideways at him. 

“Great! He likes nachos as much as I do. And chocolate chip cookies.” Bucky feeds in some dollar bills and pulls his lever down. Bunch of lemons. “He guarded me this morning at basketball again and it was fun, because he’s got good hands. I mean, he handles the ball well.” He glances at Darcy; she’s staring at him pointedly. “The _basketball._ I mean the basketball,” he clarifies.

She smiles and waggles her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

“Be serious!” The fact that he’s considered Steve handling some _other_ balls is irrelevant. He pulls his lever again. Two cherries; better, but not enough for a win. Another pull, and he picks up on his train of thought. “And then we went to his friend’s house to move some furniture. We talked in the car and that kind of made me sad, but then it got better by the end. Then we went to that sports bar over on Second and talked for, like, an hour, and it was nice.” He looks over at Darcy a second time and notices her staring again, but this time her mouth is open.

“What?” he says, and wipes his chin. “Do I have something on my face?”

Darcy shakes her head rapidly from side to side like she’s trying to clear it. “I only meant to ask about how the web site discussion went.”

Bucky is silent. Apparently he was oversharing again. “Oh,” he finally offers weakly.

She shifts in her chair to look directly at him. “So it sounds like you two spent the whole day together. And that you _like_ him.”

He shakes his head. “No. No I don’t,” he denies quickly. 

“Yes. Yes you do,” she argues back. “You haven’t talked about a guy like this in a long time. So what’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal,” Bucky says firmly, but her gaze is relentless. He pretends to examine his slot machine for metallurgical flaws, but she stares him down easily. He slouches down in his seat. “Okay…maybe I’m attracted to him, but that’s not the same thing.”

She grins triumphantly, pleased at having gotten that much of an admission out of him. He fiddles with the aluminum edge of the slot machine, running his fingers down the smooth side in distraction. 

“Darcy,” he starts timidly, “Do you think it’s shallow to want just a physical relationship with someone?”

He sneaks a look at her, and now her chin _really_ hits the ground.

“What did you just say?” Her eyes are wide in disbelief, and Bucky wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.

“Never mind. Just pretend I didn’t ask,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet. The back of his neck feels hot in embarrassment.

“Bucky bear.” Her tone commands him to look at her, which he reluctantly does. She has turned her shocked look into something more concerned and helpful. “If this guy has you thinking about _any_ kind of relationship, physical or otherwise, I say go for it.” 

She turns and pulls the lever on her machine. Three dollar signs line up across the display; it lights up and starts dinging like crazy. Darcy claps her hands excitedly and dances in her chair. “I WON!” she yells, turning to a smiling Bucky and shaking his shoulder. 

“Congrats! How much?” he asks, peering at the little piece of paper that is being spit out of the machine. 

She pulls it out, looks at it, and whispers at him, eyes big. “Three hundred.” 

His smile grows wider. “That’s great, Darce!”

She tucks the piece of paper into her bra. “Okay, I think I’m done here.”

“What?” Bucky turns in his seat toward her. “But, we just sat down, like, five minutes ago.”

She makes a face. “Yeah, but I just won three hundred dollars, and I don’t want to lose it all.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “Fine, let’s cash your ticket and go over to the lounge, where you can lose it all on booze instead.”

Her laughter is musical. “Come on, Bucky bear. Drinks are on me.”

\--

It’s Sunday evening when Bucky decides to go down and pay Thor a visit. He texts first to see if his electrician friend is home, and laughs at the return text message. 

_This is Clint. Thor got sprayed by a skunk and is taking a tomato juice bath. Come on down and join the fun!_

He raps on Thor’s door smartly and it is opened immediately by Clint, who is wearing a huge smile, along with a clothes pin on his nose. “Bucky my man, come in!” His words sound nasally because of the clothes pin. 

Shaking his head and laughing, Bucky strides in. He can’t detect any skunky smell in the first few breaths, so he dips his head in the direction of Clint’s nose and asks, “What’s with the clothes pin? Is it that bad?”

Clint laughs also, pulls it off his face and throws it down onto the table by the door. “No, just kidding. I think he was upwind enough that it’s not a terrible case, but I was wearing it when I got here just to give him some shit.”

From down the hall and behind a closed door which Bucky assumes is the bathroom, he hears a deep voice boom out, “Clint, who are you talking to?”

“It’s Bucky!” Bucky yells out. “I came down to borrow some tomato juice! Clint said you have plenty!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Thor moans. “Barton, have you been answering my phone again?”

Clint walks over and bangs on the door with his fist. “You were _indisposed_. I was helping you out!” He turns and smiles as he walks back into the living room and plops down on one end of the sectional. “Make yourself at home. He’s gotta be done by now, he’s been in there soaking like a diva for forever.”

Thor’s voice rises in pitch. “I can hear you, you know!”

Bucky and Clint both snicker, and Bucky drops down on the couch as well. “How did he get sprayed?” he asks. 

“Jogging in the park.”

“This park?” Bucky hooks his thumb in the direction of the neighboring park, eyebrows arched. 

“Yep. Just another good reason I avoid jogging like it’s the plague.” 

Bucky hasn’t seen or smelled any skunks on his walks with Zeus, thankfully. Something to take note of. Clint pulls his own phone out of one pockets of his cargo shorts and checks the time on it, then shoves it back down into the depths of the ginormous pocket.

“Whatcha been up to today?” he asks conversationally. 

“Went golfing with Steve. Didn’t see any skunks. You?”

“I did forty loads of laundry.” Clint’s face says he doesn’t enjoy laundry. 

Just then Thor appears, fresh-faced and wet-haired, from the bathroom. He is wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, and smells…like tomatoes. But not like skunk, so Bucky figures that’s a good thing. Clint sniffs dramatically.

“Well, you smell better than you did an hour ago,” he pronounces. “I put your bowl of clothes outside on the patio.”

Bucky giggles and turns to Clint. “His _what?"_

Thor sighs and takes a seat on Clint’s other side. “I asked him to soak my clothes in vinegar and peroxide. Takes the smell out.”

Bucky scratches his head. “It does? Did you just google that?”

Clint snorts, finding that humorous for some reason. “You wanna tell him how you know it takes the smell out, stinky?”

Glaring first in Clint’s direction, Thor says to Bucky, “I’ve been sprayed before.”

Bucky only partially suppresses a smile. “You have?”

Clint leans forward with his hands braced on his knees. “Guess how many times?” He only pauses a millisecond before holding up three fingers, smiling crazily. “Three times!” He guffaws loudly. “Today was number four!”

Thor has a disgusted look on his face, and sits back with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He nods in confirmation. “Four,” he says flatly.

Bucky can’t stop a few chuckles rising from his chest and leaking out his mouth. “What are you doing to these animals to piss them off?”

Thor lifts his hands. “Apparently they don’t like having their tails pulled. Who knew?” he jokes. “I don’t know, they just appear out of nowhere and get me! It’s like they have a personal vendetta!”

Clint is laughing just as hard as Bucky is, much to Thor’s chagrin. 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he harasses him, feigning impatience with his friend. 

Taking it in stride, Clint just smiles. “Yeah, actually, I do. Gotta get one more load out of the dryer, and then Walking Dead is on in a few.”

“You’re a Walking Dead fan?” Bucky says abruptly, sitting up straighter. 

“Hell yeah,” Clint holds out his fist for a bump, which Bucky leans over to give. 

Rolling his eyes, Thor lets his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. 

Clint jerks his head in his direction. “Thor doesn’t like zombies.”

“What’s not to like about zombies?” Bucky asks. Seriously, who doesn’t think zombies are kick-ass? 

“Oh my God,” Clint moans. “Don’t get him started.”

“Zombies are completely unrealistic!” Thor emphatically insists. “Once the body starts to deteriorate, how could they keep walking around? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Now you got him going,” Clint whines, and kicks Bucky’s shoe with his foot. 

“What?” Bucky protests, laughing. Even good science fiction frequently requires a little suspension of disbelief, in his opinion. “Zombies are cool! They’re not supposed to be believable.”

“Ha!” Thor spits out. “Tell that to Mr. I-have-a-zombie-apocalypse-survival-kit.”

They both look at Clint, who grins like a Cheshire cat. “Fuck yeah I do,” he boasts. 

“What’s in a zombie apocalypse kit?” Bucky asks inquisitively.

“Oh, the usual survival stuff,” Clint answers, warming to the subject. “Flint, water purification straws, solar charger, straight razor,” he lists, ticking things off on his fingers.

“What’s the razor for? Wouldn’t a hunting knife be better?” Bucky wonders, and Clint shakes his head.

“Can’t shave with a hunting knife.”

Bucky chuckles. “You’d be shaving during a zombie apocalypse?”

“I don’t look good with a beard.”

Thor covers his face with his hands and shakes with laughter. Clint ignores him. “Wanna guess what else?”

"Ummm…” Bucky considers this seriously. What would be required in any kind of apocalypse? The subject bears scrutiny. “Swiss Army knife? A tent?”

Clint smiles and gives him a thumb’s up. “Yes to Swiss Army knife, no to the tent. But it does have rope and a tree hammock to tie yourself to while sleeping.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky exclaims. “Why not just a tent?”

“Cuz zombies can get you in a tent, but they can’t climb trees. Duh!” Clint razzes.

“What about a sword for hacking up hungry, attacking zombies?” Thor goads him, but Clint doesn’t hesitate with his answer.

“No way, you’d need to carry around a scabbard then. Too awkward. I’ve got an axe that fits into a special pocket on the backpack.”

“You have an axe?” Bucky asks in amazement. “You are _super_ prepared.”

“I’ll be the _only_ one prepared. Don’t expect to borrow my axe when zombie are clawing through your door!” Clint points a finger at Thor, who bats it away.

“Zombie apocalypse my _ass_ ,” he sasses. 

“They don’t want your ass, dipshit. They want your _brains_ ,” Clint needles him, wiggling his fingers menacingly.

“Also completely unrealistic,” Thor says with a superior air. “Why would they need to eat anything if they have no active metabolism?”

Clint stands and thrusts his palm in Thor’s direction. “Stop, I can’t listen to anymore from the nonbeliever,” he says in insult, and makes to leave. “Gotta grab my delicates,” he joshes. “Why don’t you come down in a few, Bucky, and watch the show at my place?” He leers at Thor. “We can watch zombies walking around eating brains in peace.”

Bucky laughs as Thor waves a hand at his buddy like he’s shooing away a fly. Clearly the argument is an old one. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be down in a few,” he agrees, and Clint takes off. 

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Thor turns to Bucky. “So,” he starts without preamble. “How are you and Rogers getting along?”

“Umm…great,” Bucky replies, folding his hands in his lap. “We golfed today, and it went really well.”

Thor sucks on his lower lip. “And how do you feel about him?”

“Feel?” Bucky tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Okay, truth be told, he did come down here to talk about Steve, but now that he needs to formulate words, his lips seem unable to make the necessary shapes. 

“Yes, _feel_ ,” Thor badgers him. “On the inside. In your chest. Are you not in touch with your emotions at all?” He looks at Bucky expectantly, blue eyes bright. 

_Been touching plenty, thank you very much,_ Bucky thinks sarcastically. He’s not about to take any guff from the big guy though. “Bite me.”

Thor just grins evilly. “You should be saying shit like that to _Steve_ , not me.”

Bucky’s head falls back on the back of the couch. “Ugh. Geez, Thor.” He picks his head back up. Why is Thor asking, anyway? He _has_ been talking to both of them. Thor is a double agent. “Do you think,” Bucky queries tentatively, “he would be interested in…anything? With me?”

Thor’s eyes are penetrating. “I think he would be interested in anything you’re willing to offer.”

_Oh boy_. Bucky’s stomach does some flip flops. Time to put an offer down on the table?


	6. Dynamite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is a man with a plan. Nerves? He doesn't have nerves, he's got total brain paralysis. But eventually, we make it to the big day and Bucky pops the big question.

Chapter Six

Friends. With benefits. That’s the plan, if Bucky can ever get up enough nerve to execute it. He and Steve golf on Sunday and he has an excellent time, but can’t ever work up the nerve to bring the subject up. It only takes him the better part of a week to talk himself into it fully. They’re just going to get naked, enjoy the hell out of each other, and that’s it. No muss, no fuss. No one gets hurt. He tells himself that about two thousand times, in between doubts that dog him like the plague. What if Steve isn’t interested in him? What if he _is_? Bucky’s never had a relationship that didn’t mean _something,_ but that’s not Steve’s M.O.. What if he gets hurt again? 

As to the first point, he’s got Thor’s encouragement to go by, and there’s the fact that they have successfully engaged in some mild flirty-like behavior already. He hasn’t been shot down in flames, so that’s promising. And Steve _does_ have grabby hands when they play ball. That’s got to count for something, right? There’s no way Steve can be as attracted to him as Bucky is to Steve, Bucky thinks, but if the blond finds him just half as sexy, there’s still a lot of potential there for hitting the sheets together. 

It’s at this point in the commentary that’s been running through Bucky’s head over and over that he gets distracted, thinking about Steve in bed. Steve naked. Steve doing things to him that will make his blood sing as it courses through his veins. That’s the light at the end of the tunnel, after all, getting Steve into the sack. Feeling that hard body against his own as they explore and pleasure each other and basically get their rocks off together. 

He’s got this. Really. He doesn’t have to worry about his emotions getting out of control. It’s just sex between two consenting adults. Sure, Steve is a nice guy, but that doesn’t mean it has to go any further than that. Bucky won’t let that happen, because he’s got _boundaries_ here. Boundaries! Steve doesn’t want a boyfriend. Steve only wants a good time. And oh, how Bucky wants to be the one to give him that good time. 

So clearly, he’s got it all worked out, no problem. He knows what he wants, and he knows (sorta maybe possibly) what Steve wants. It’s just a matter of making that happen. He’s got that all worked out, too. Saturday morning basketball. After the game, he’ll give Steve enough time to shower (because Steve told him he _always_ showers right after they play) and then pop down innocently to ask him a question about the website. 

Of course, Steve will invite him in, because Steve is an extremely polite person. They’ll have some business talk, and then Bucky can work in a witty comment about how all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...or something like that. He’s still thinking about that one, give him a break! But anyway, he’ll figure out a way to propose what he wants, and see if Steve bites. 

Figuratively, of course. And then literally, he hopes. Steve and Darcy both even text him Friday night to say they met and went over things, so it’s a perfectly legitimate excuse. Neither of them give any detail about their meeting, just that the ball is rolling. Darcy doesn’t say how she felt about meeting Steve, but secretly he hopes they got on well with each other. Why that’s important, he doesn’t give much thought to. But it is. He can find that out after basketball. 

Or not. 

Saturday morning brings more rain, and no Steve. Bucky sighs deeply when he wakes and hears the rain coming down on the roof. _Shit._ So much for that idea. Maybe he can still pop over later on anyway. He doesn’t know what Steve’s plans will be. Maybe he shouldn’t go. Maybe it’s the Universe trying to tell him something? _No. Don’t chicken out._ Later on, he texts Darcy back for reinforcement. 

_Hey. Thinking about going over to see Steve. Is that a good idea?_

He’s deliberately vague, to see what she sends back. He waits only a minute before the reply comes. The only time Darcy doesn’t have her phone with her is if she’s sleeping. Bucky swears she must take it in the shower with her. 

_Are you going over because you want to bang him?_

He rubs his thumb over the screen absentmindedly before texting back: _Possibly._

The response comes almost immediately: _Do it!_

And then a follow-up message just after: _And then text me!_

After a hearty chuckle, Bucky musters up what courage he can and strides down to Steve’s door. He’s just knocked and is waiting for a reply when a door several down opens and shuts. Sam comes dancing down the hall toward him, ear buds on and iphone in hand, humming some tune Bucky doesn’t know. He stops next to the brunet and pulls out one bud.

“Looking for Steve?” he asks, and Bucky has to smile. 

“No, Santa Claus. I hear he and Steve are tight.”

Sam flashes a gap-toothed grin at him. “Then I should be getting better Christmas presents.” There still hasn’t been any sound or movement at Steve’s door, so he goes on, gesturing at the silent space with his head. “He might be out running. Fucker loves to run.”

Bucky’s smile grows wider. Sam is a stitch. “So how come you’re not out with him?”

“Screw that,” Sam replies with a disgusted look. “I only run if I’m being chased, and even then it depends on who’s doing the chasing.” He winks and elbows Bucky in the ribs. “Well, I’m gonna see him later on, want me to tell him you were lookin’ for him?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Naw, it can wait. Where are you off to?”

“Nat’s place. How’s golf going?” He emulates a golf swing, following through and pausing with his arms raised high, clutching an imaginary club. “Arnold Palmer. I’m expecting Arnold Palmer,” he teases. 

As Sam brings his arms back down again, Bucky lifts his eyebrows dubiously. “Might be a little premature for that.”

Laughing, Sam starts on his way down toward the stairs. Over his shoulder he calls back, “Don’t let him say you can’t drive the cart. He hogs it every chance he gets.” 

“Thanks for the tip!” Bucky yells down, and meanders back to his own apartment, grunting as he pushes open his door. More waiting. Zeus comes prancing up, wagging his tail. “I didn’t get to ask him, Zeus,” he reveals to his dog, shaking his head. Zeus wags his tail even harder, a sign of his solidarity. “Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky tells him, bending down to give him some pets. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

Sometimes things in life don’t pan out the way you think they will, but still end up working out alright. Bucky finds this to be one of those occasions. That evening, he and his sister are at a nearby movie theater when the unexpected happens. Becca has just finished giving him the third degree about Steve. He was tempted, but didn’t tell her about his new neighbor’s history and lack of any serious boyfriends. He also didn’t tell her about his friends-with-benefits idea, not wanting her to put any added pressure on him. 

Instead he purposely prattled on about golf and basketball and the website, until Becca grew tired of pressing him for any other details and instead brought up the movie they were about to see. Internally, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. It’s not that he doesn’t love Becca or trust her, he’s just not ready for the scrutiny. She can’t help herself where her brother is concerned—if he admits to any kind of interest in a man, she’ll never stop hounding him. 

So because of this, Bucky is surprised and happy and nervous when he spies Steve and Sam ahead of them in the wide hallway of the theater lobby. They are armed with buckets of popcorn and soda, just heading into another theater. They stop and turn when he calls out their names, and wait for them so Bucky can introduce them to his sister. 

_Christ_ , first thing Becca does when she is introduced to Steve is give it away that Bucky has been talking about him. 

“Steve…the one who lives two doors down, right?”

It takes quite a bit of effort for Bucky not to roll his eyes to the ceiling. When he glances directly at Steve, though, he’s wearing the biggest smile, hinting that it makes him _happy_ Bucky talked about him. Okay, so that’s not bad. And then he _blushes_ when he sees Bucky is watching him. It’s freaking adorable. He’s so enamored of the way Steve’s blush extends from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears that he almost misses his sister asking Sam if he lives in the same building. 

He’s mentioned Sam to her already. Did she forget, or was that on purpose? Is she trying to out it to Steve that he talks about him the most? Her smile as he reminds her who Sam is appears very innocent, but he knows full well that means next to nothing. Becca is nothing if not sneaky. They make it through some more conversation and then separate to their respective theaters. 

The theater is filling up rapidly. They have to go up several rows to find two spots together. As soon as they have shuffled past a young couple and are seated, Becca turns to him and smacks him on the shoulder. “Jesus, Bucky,” she whispers. “You didn’t tell me he was _that_ hot!”

He smacks her back on her shoulder. “And _you_ made certain he knew I was talking about him, didn’t you! You think you are soooooo clever!” He sits back in his maroon-colored seat, which creaks and flies back an alarming degree, dumping him backward too, before stopping and bouncing back up. 

“Oof!” he grunts. 

She laughs at his misfortune and hits him a second time. “I _am_ clever! Did you see how red he got? He’s into you!”

She settles back in her chair, nodding knowingly, while Bucky tries not to grin like a maniac and give everything away. He turns to his other side, away from her for a moment, pretending to adjust his seat, and lets his smile show. Just a flash, then it’s back to a normal resting face so he can look at his sister again. 

She’s checking out her phone, but as soon as she sees him focus on her again, she strikes. “So, when are you going to ask him out?”

“I’m not.” 

“Bucky!”

“Don’t _Bucky_ me!”

Well, technically he’s telling the truth. He’s not planning to ask Steve out. He’s going to ask him _in_. Luckily, the lights dim and the incredibly loud trailers start, so there’s no more time for conversation at this point. Becca initially shoots several daggers at him through her eyes, but eventually gives up and settles for one more chuck on the shoulder and a whispered, “You should!” before falling quiet for the movie. 

Afterwards, she is busy wiping her eyes and gushing about how wonderful the movie was to remember to hassle him. Bucky thought the film was _okay_ , but is glad for the distraction it brings. He has dropped his sister off at home, made it back to the apartment, and is taking out a very excitable Zeus when lo and behold, he meets Sam and Steve coming into the building. 

Sam races past him and up the staircase to the second floor with hardly a word, looking like he’s going to explode. As Steve explains Sam’s little predicament (he needs to pee), Bucky gets a whiff of him. Ewww. Not normally the reaction he has. Steve _stinks_ like he was at a frat party. Involuntarily, Bucky wrinkles his nose. 

“You two stop at a bar on the way home?” he asks, and it’s during Steve’s response that Bucky gets close enough and focused enough to get a good look at his chest. Distantly he hears Steve say he got beer spilled on him, but it’s the visual aspect he’s really zeroed in on. Steve’s shirt is wet all down the front and clinging to his chest like it’s painted on. Not only can Bucky see the contours of every muscle, two nipples stand up and command all his attention. He might as well be shirtless. It’s _sensational_.

Bucky’s never been really sure what body part _loins_ refer to, but assumes it’s his loins that are on fire while he stares at Steve’s chest. A deep lust spikes somewhere within his body, bringing with it a wave of heat that’s positively tropical. _Jesus_ does he _want_ this man. His eyes rake up and down Steve’s torso, and he swears those nipples stand up even more before Steve pulls his shirt out away from them. 

That snaps him out of his leering stupor and he remembers himself, taking a glance down at Zeus before he focuses back on Steve’s face. 

“Oh,” he says, an edge of disappointment coming through in his voice. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

_Talk to you about fucking your brains out._

Steve doesn’t seem too vexed about the fact that he smells like a brewery, or that it's getting late. “Well sure,” he answers, “Just give me about ten minutes to shower off.” 

_Yeah buddy!_ Bucky jumps at that offer, and off he and Zeus go for his nightly constitutional. It’s dark out now, with the streetlights casting yellow light and long shadows on the street where they hit parked cars. Fireflies are out in full force, creating brief flashes of light haphazardly all around them. Crickets keep up a steady cacophony. It’s a calm night, but Bucky is feeling anything but that. Zeus, completely unconcerned with his owner’s state of mind and totally preoccupied with finding a good spot to pee, is of no help to him. Bucky freaks out only slightly, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, as they wander around in the grass aimlessly. 

_Think about all the ways it could go right_ , he tells himself. He’s so nervous, he can feel his palms start to sweat. He’s got to calm himself down before he goes up there, so he thinks about work, instead of the gorgeous man waiting on him. 

He’s got Thor coming over to his office Monday morning—his clients decided at the last minute to add on a deck and hot tub to their house plans, which changes the electrical requirements. Thor will be thrilled, Bucky thinks with a smile. They’re going to have to figure out the best way to run the wires. Would’ve been a lot easier if the homeowners had decided this two months ago. 

That occupies his thoughts and preempts a total mental breakdown, until Zeus is ready to zip back inside. Bucky gets him settled on the couch, then locks up behind himself and tucks his key into his pocket. _Game time_.

Steve opens up and lets him in promptly, and Bucky just as promptly forgets everything he had planned to say. Steve looks _so good_ , fresh from the shower with damp hair and glowing skin, and he smells even better than he looks. Bucky breaths in deeply as he passes him to head over to the couch. 

“You smell better,” he can’t help commenting, and Steve makes a joke about a dive bar. Panic starts to rise up like a giant lump in Bucky’s throat. Desperately he tries to stall and make some sort of conversation…anything… while he tries to jumpstart his brain and figure out what to say. Dimly he is aware of talking about the movies they saw, but he can’t seem to make himself look directly at Steve. Instead his eyes roam all over the room, anywhere but those intense blue eyes that he can feel are fixed solidly on him. 

Steve seems to sense his discomfort. “Are you okay?” he asks, and sounds genuinely concerned for Bucky’s welfare.

 _Get a grip on yourself, man_ , he commands himself, and admits out loud to being nervous. He steals a glance at Steve and sees kind eyes, but confused ones. Steve has _no fucking clue_ what Bucky is doing there; that much is obvious.

“Want to go in the kitchen and get a bite to eat?” Steve suggests, and sure, Bucky supposes that’s better than sitting awkwardly on the couch while his brain decomposes and slides out his ears. 

When Steve explains he likes to snack when he’s nervous, it reminds Bucky of the nachos they shared the other night. That’s a good memory and it gives him a moment of comfort as he sidles up against the kitchen counter. Steve is fishing in one of the cupboards for a bag of pretzels, which he opens up as he turns around to face him. 

“I suppose this is below my usual standards,” he says. “I’m pretty dynamite in the kitchen, you know.” 

It’s supposed to be a joke, but all Bucky can think of is the sexy Steve he’s been fantasizing about. The six foot tall, packed with muscle dreamboat. The one he bets is dynamite in the _bedroom_ , not the kitchen. 

“I’ll bet you’re pretty dynamite in a lot of rooms,” he breathes, and the rest of the room could be on fire and he wouldn’t notice. As he takes the bag from Steve's hands, he hopes those pretzels end up on the counter and he hasn't dropped them on the floor, because he’s only got eyes for Steve right now, and the blond meets his gaze unflinchingly. Bucky holds his breath. It’s all on the line. Steve _has_ to have gotten that message. Either this is going to work, or he’s about to get shot down and kicked out. 

Steve’s breath seems to catch in his chest, and he fumbles with his words just a little, but the reply is like music to Bucky’s ears nonetheless. 

“Is that…is that something you want to…explore? With me?” 

God, is Steve adorable. How can he sound so unsure? Doesn’t he ever look in a fucking mirror? It’s not a _no,_ and that’s the most important part. He’s definitely open to the idea, and Bucky finds his hormones starting to take over where the nerves were dominant before. Steve sounds _willing_ , and that’s all the opening he needs. But he also needs Steve to know they both want the same thing, before this goes further. He doesn’t want him bolting if he thinks Bucky’s still hung up on having a commitment. 

“See, here’s the thing, Steve. I don’t want a heavy relationship, and I know you don’t either.” He moves closer, only inches away from him, and Steve’s scent fills him up, heady and delicious, acting like an aphrodisiac. “But physically, I’m very attracted to you. I tried not to be, but…it’s your fault, really.” It really is. How can anyone resist such a phenomenal package? Steve is practically _perfect_. “You made me want you.” 

Did those words really come out of his mouth? Bucky’s never thought of himself as being particularly forward, but that was as blatant as can be. His physical need has short-circuited any reservations his brain may have offered up. It’s all naked desire now, and from the look on Steve’s face, it may be mutual. 

“Would you ever consider a friends with benefits kind of a deal? With me?” 

He did it. He said it. And he didn’t spontaneously combust into a million embarrassed pieces. Because he realizes there’s nothing wrong with what he wants. No one ever said it had to be all or nothing in this life, to be deeply in love or have nothing at all. No one ever said there’s only one way for two people to be together. 

“Benefits?” 

The word rolls off of Steve’s tongue slowly, like he’s not quite sure what those ways would be. Hell if Bucky knows. He never exactly got that far in his planning. Anytime he got to this point in his musings, his brain got overloaded by images of him and Steve, in various levels of undress, doing various things to each other. How much is Steve comfortable with? How much is Bucky comfortable with? How about if they just try a kiss first? Seems like a logical first step. 

“Let’s just start off slow, and anytime you want me to stop, you say so,” he proposes, though he hopes that never happens. “Like, right now I want to kiss you. And I want you to kiss me back.”

May lightning strike him dead on the spot, if that’s not the honest truth. He wants Steve so much he can almost _taste_ him already. Steve’s eyes drop to his mouth as he contemplates Bucky’s offer, allowing Bucky to stare at him unreservedly, unashamedly. He might just do that exploding, if Steve turns him down now. They’re so close, he can feel the heat pouring off of the body next to him, and he can see the way Steve’s eyes start to dilate, black replacing blue. 

Steve reaches out and clutches at Bucky’s shirt, tugging at him to draw him in. Bucky’s heart stops beating. He allows himself to be pulled in, until Steve kisses him, feather light, so soft. His lips are _divine_. The second they meet his, it’s like the whole world turns upside down and inside out. Bucky tingles _everywhere_ , his body thrumming with life like he never knew it could. How can one person have such an effect on him? One little kiss, and his body responds like he’s never been touched before. He needs more. So much more. 

“Is that a yes?” he murmurs, wanting to hear Steve say it, to echo his own deep desire. 

“Yes.” 

Steve nods, fisting the fabric of Bucky’s shirt in his hand and pulling him in again, and this time they both let loose. The kiss is deep and long, and Bucky somehow knows that whatever he wants from Steve, he only need ask, and Steve will give it to him. They both want this, and want it badly. Admittedly, Bucky lets himself get carried away on a tide of his own passion, but what of it? Steve’s on board! And he seems to enjoy making out as much as Bucky does. Bonus! 

They kiss until Bucky’s cock demands he take the next step, and thankfully, Steve has no objection to Bucky dropping to his knees in front of him. _God_ , he just can’t get enough of him. Blowing Steve is unfathomably amazing and erotic, and when Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, he seriously thinks he might pass out. Steve is willing, and enthusiastic, and _so fucking hot_ , Bucky couldn’t ask for more from a partner.

Moving to the bedroom is just the logical next step, one they take together so easily, Bucky’s sure this was meant to be. It’s as natural as breathing air. Their bodies fit together like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. It's _perfect_. The very things Bucky fantasized about become a reality that's even better than the fantasy. 

That’s how he ends up in Steve’s bed, having the best sex of his entire life. With a guy who’s totally on the same page with him! It’s fucking _perfect!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not going to re-hash every sex scene (cue cheers and boos, as the case may be), only the ones I feel like I really need to. Or because I'm horny. ;-) But there will be new smut as well (cue more cheers and boos, as the case may be). Thanks for reading!


	7. Find Your Happy Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's a pretty happy guy. Who wouldn't be, after having spectacularly good sex with Steve, resident sex-God? This is the best idea he's ever had! Now if only he could keep Darcy and his sister off his back. And if only Darcy and Thor wouldn't say dumb relationship-y shit to him and make him feel weird. Oh well. Draft night comes and goes, and his chances for another round of super sex look good.

Chapter Seven

Two A.M. and Bucky is still awake. Not because he’s stressed or disturbed about anything. He’s awake because he’s _happy_. He’s so goddamned happy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s been bopping around from room to room without any purpose at all, not being able to sit still; earlier he was in the kitchen, and then the living room, back to the kitchen, and then the bedroom. At the moment he’s sitting in bed, in sleep shorts and no shirt, watching Zeus sleep. His dog is belly up next to him, feet in the air, practically snoring. 

He reaches down and scratches that spot on Zeus’s stomach that makes his back leg kick like crazy. There it goes, circling like he just can’t stop. Bucky smothers a chuckle as Zeus cracks his eyes at him and gives him a look that says _why are you bothering me?_ Bucky’s smile widens; actually he hasn’t been able to stop smiling since he got back. 

Not just because the sex was good. Astronomically good. He’s happy because deep down, he was scared he’d never feel sure enough to be intimate with anyone again. Scared he would feel too insecure, too pressured to make better decisions the next time, too suspicious to be able to let his guard down even an inch. And he felt none of those things with Steve. How fantastic is that? Finding a man who understood his reticence and accepted his conditions going in gave him such a feeling of freedom, the fears he thought would materialize never did. 

So here he is, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, wondering when is too soon to ask Steve for another tumble. He fluffs up his pillow and lies down, thinking about how much he lucked out here, finding someone he’s so attracted to, who also is a genuinely good person. He was honestly surprised when Steve asked him to stay afterward for some pillow talk. He _loves_ pillow talk after sex. He loves that completely contented feeling, so relaxed and comfortable, but _Steve_? He’d really expected an immediate heave-ho, and he would have been fine with that, knowing going in that this was not going to be a shmoop fest. 

But Steve was so generous, giving him just a little touch and just enough encouragement to stay. He was a lot more personable than Bucky anticipated, a lot more willing to share a little bit of himself and to show interest in Bucky’s life in general. _Don’t get used to it,_ the downer side of his brain insists, but he tells that part of himself to shut up. _I’m allowed to have nice things,_ the other part of his brain returns. He’s going with the other part for now. Reaching up with one hand, he clicks off the lamp at the side of the bed and closes his eyes.

\--

Next morning, he’s happy again. _Very_ happy. After taking care of a little business and hitting the shower, he’s raring to go. When Steve picks him up for golf, Bucky can’t resist a bit of flirting. But it’s _safe_ flirting, because he already knows it’s not going to lead anywhere they didn’t already go. Besides, Steve is really fun to flirt with; he flirts right back, but doesn’t come off creepy or heavy-handed. Bucky knows he’s just a pleasant diversion for Steve, and only in the here and now. So no worries. 

“Sleep well?” he asks, and Steve smiles at him with this cute, goofy grin, blue eyes bright.

“Like a baby. You?” 

As Bucky pulls his door shut, he leans in close and admits, “It’s been a long time. I was so keyed up, I could hardly sleep. Almost came back down to see you again.”

He can own up to that, right? They’re both in this for the sex, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Admitting to sexual feelings isn’t the same as admitting to emotional feelings. 

Steve looks taken aback, but not in a bad way, and his words seem to support that. “I wish you would have.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him and it’s more than a little arousing, but he doesn’t initially take him seriously. They are heading down the staircase, carrying their clubs, with Steve in the lead as Bucky teases, “And interrupt your beauty sleep? No way.” 

He watches the slightly bigger man reach the bottom of the stairs and turn back to him. His eyes move up and down over Bucky in a way that makes him tingle from head to toe. 

“Next time you can’t sleep? Come back down.”

The look in Steve’s eyes is…feral, if Bucky had to put a word to it, and holy shit, does he regret not going back down last night when he had the chance. Steve is being _serious_. As he passes him, he leans in close and whispers, only half teasing, “If you don’t quit it, we’re not even going to get out of this building.”

Even as the words come out of his mouth, he can’t believe he said them. _Oh my God, did you really just proposition him at nine in the morning?_ Guess all that nervous energy is still with him. His mood is too good to sour with one bold comment, though, and he breezes past Steve with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

He’d say the day only got better from that point on, except for the fact that Steve made him get into a sand bunker, and wouldn’t let him out until he could hit his way out. For the record, Bucky would state under oath that sand traps are a hellish creation which no one should be subjected to. The experience was made slightly more tolerable by Steve giving him frequent encouragement, including those smiles that make his knees buckle, because _sweet mercy_ they’re as bright as the sun, but only _slightly_ more tolerable. After hour upon grueling hour of hitting in the bunker (the time estimate _might_ be an exaggeration), Steve finally took mercy on him, and they went to do something much more fun.

Putting! Definitely better. And while they practiced, Steve was thoughtful enough to ask him whether or not he wanted to keep their new status private. For an instant he considered it; how in a perfect world he’d keep Steve to himself and not let anyone else know what was really going on. It would be just the two of them…all of Steve, all the time… it would be soooooo… then he shakes himself out of his daydream. Whoa, who’s got an infatuation problem? 

Not him. Mentally he locks down those thoughts and as they talk about the situation, he leans down to make a putt. Of course he misses, but _not_ because Steve has him unfocused. Maybe that sand trap sapped his strength. Anyway, they decide not to broadcast what happened last night, but not to necessarily keep it a secret, either. He figures at some point, the cat’s going to be let out of the bag. Thor and his friends seem cool enough that it shouldn’t really be an issue, and he says as much to Steve.

“They’re your friends now, too, Buck. Not just mine. You’ve inherited us all, for better or worse.” 

Steve says it as a joke, but _damn_ , the way he calls him _Buck_ , combined with the effortless way he’s made Bucky feel a part of their group already, is enough to melt even the coldest heart. He allows one sappy grin to cover his face before going back to teasing mode. 

“But don’t worry, even if they know, they won’t give you any shit about it,” Steve promises.

Bucky has doubts about that. Steve’s _met_ these friends he’s talking about, right? “No shit?”

“Nope. No shit,” Steve repeats, looking determined, before ducking his head down to putt. 

Huh. Apparently he _hasn’t_ met them. But Bucky has. “Okay then,” he taunts, “If I get any shit, I’m telling them you bottomed for me.”

Steve’s laughter fills his ears and keeps his good mood going all day and into the next.

And then Darcy and Thor get a hold of him. 

\--

“There he is! Thor, don’t let him get away!”

Bucky has just gotten to his office Monday morning, barely getting in the door with only a few sips of coffee in him, before Darcy is hollering and pointing at him.

She’s in her usual spot behind the counter, with Thor next to her, sitting one cheek of his butt on the desk. He looks up with a puzzled expression on his face, while Darcy looks absolutely rabid. Bucky freezes in place when Darcy screeches at him, eyes wide; he then approaches them slowly, timidly, setting his coffee down next to Thor. 

Darcy’s eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you text me or call me yesterday, mister?” 

Mouth hanging open, Bucky stumbles for some words. “I…uh…” Honestly, he meant to. He just…didn’t. Guess it was that whole keep-Steve-to-himself mood he was in. And he might have ignored his phone for the whole day, not wanting to have to abandon his happy place by looking at what would be undoubtedly ten work-related messages. He just plain forgot. 

“Text her about what?” Thor asks, brow creased in his direction. 

“So did you go and see him, or what?” Darcy demands impatiently, and Bucky shuffles his feet. 

“Uh…well yeah, but…”

“Go and see who?”

“Steve, that’s who!” Darcy steps out from behind the counter and approaches Bucky, still rooted nervously to his spot.

“Are you and Steve a thing now?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No! No, I told you I wasn’t ready to be a thing with anybody.”

Darcy looks over her shoulder at Thor. “But he wanted to bang one particular _body_.”

Thor spins and stares at Bucky. “Is that true? Did you bang Steve?”

“Thor!” Bucky stares back, bug-eyed.

“Bucky!” Thor returns brightly, and rests his hands on his knees, leaning forward onto them. “Are you two at least a partial thing? Early stage thing? Preliminary thing?” He shrugs his shoulders as Bucky tries to catch flies with his open mouth. “Come on, dude, I’m running out of _thing_ categories.”

“Friend category! We’re friend category!” Bucky chokes out. 

Thor doesn’t give up. “But if you _wanted_ to be part of a thing, isn’t Steve the kind of guy you’d want to be in a thing with?”

Bucky scrunches up his face in panic and turns to his best friend. “Darcy!” he pleads. This is exactly the kind of scrutiny he wants to avoid. He knows Thor means well, but _geez_. And he knows he would keep things quiet if Bucky asked him to, but like he told Steve, he doesn’t want to start lying about it. He just…doesn’t want to talk about it, either. 

“Bucky!” Darcy grasps him by the shoulders. “Even if you’re not ready for a relationship, I know you have feelings for him. You just need time to…”

“What?” Bucky’s voice must have gone up two octaves. “No I don’t!”

Darcy and Thor trade a look that gives Bucky the sneaking suspicion they’ve been talking about him, and he makes a loud groaning noise in protest. She tightens her grip on his shoulders and brings her eyes back to his. 

“Okay, okay, I won’t push. At least tell me you did the deed.”

“Yeah, Bucky, tell us about the deed.” Thor smiles devilishly, looking like he needs some popcorn to help him enjoy the show.

Bucky rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Arrrrgggghh!” He squirms in Darcy’s grip, trying to think of a way to downplay the situation. “Come on guys, my love life is not that big a…” he starts to say, and Darcy squeals and claps her hands. 

“So you DID do the deed!”

Bucky sighs. “Darcy. We’re just staying friends. He’s not a relationship guy anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

Darcy grabs him again and pulls him into a hug. “It IS a big deal, honey. I’m happy for you.”

Her embrace is warm and comforting, her soft hair against his neck. His exasperation evaporates; he relaxes and hugs her back. “Thanks, Darce.”

“I’m happy for you, too,” Thor booms, clapping his hands on his muscled thighs. 

Pulling back from Darcy, Bucky cocks his head and looks at the tall blond, who grins again, picks up Bucky’s coffee, and hands it to him. 

“Told you he’d be interested,” he razzes, crossing his long legs at the ankle. 

Bucky just smiles at him. 

Thor is still smiling, too. “Now tell us everything.”

\--

After _finally_ getting Thor and Darcy off his back, Bucky ducks back to his office to take care of some paperwork before going out to a work site. His thoughts continually stray back to Steve. He didn’t give his two friends any intimate details, because _ewww_ , he would never do that, but they did get some additional information out of him, like the fact that this wasn’t merely a one-night stand and that they’ve made sort of an agreement to continue, no strings attached. Thor had looked at him almost like he was gloating, the bastard, and said he thought the two of them would be good for each other. 

What that was supposed to mean, he didn’t ask, and he also didn't ask what on earth would make Darcy say he has feelings for Steve. He doesn't have feelings for Steve! Sure, he thinks he's nice. And funny. And easy to talk to. And hotter than molten lava. But _feelings_? Nope. Nothing like that going on here. 

What he _does_ want to ask her is how her meeting with the web designer had gone. He never got details, and the curiosity is burning through him as he sits at his desk. He longs to ask, but doesn’t want that to seem like permission for her to start another third degree interrogation on him. So he thinks about it. And stalls. And thinks about it some more. 

Twenty minutes later, he can’t stand it any longer and heads back out to the desk. She’s on the phone, so he leans against the filing cabinet behind her and waits. Her fingers run through her long, dark hair subconsciously as she talks, until the caller has no more questions for her and she hangs up the phone. Without even turning around and before Bucky can even open his mouth, she asks, “Are you going to ask me what my opinion is of him?”

She turns around, smiling wickedly as Bucky’s face shows his surprise. He shouldn’t really be shocked at all; she knows him better than pretty much anyone else on the planet. 

“Because I liked him,” she adds. “He seems really nice.”

“He is,” Bucky gushes, then presses his lips together when he realizes he sounds like a giddy school boy.

Her dark eyes examine him closely. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Bucky bear.”

“Of course,” he scoffs. _I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is under control._

\--

It’s Friday and now the end of the work week, which means Bucky has had a few days to absorb what’s happened and put it in perspective. 

He hasn’t stopped thinking about Steve all week. 

Especially Steve in that button down shirt and tie on Monday night. When he’d gone down to confess to telling Darcy and Thor about the two of them, and saw Steve looking all sexy and professional, damn, it just did something to him. Turned something on inside him that hadn’t been turned on before. And he’d done more flirting with him. _Shameless_ flirting, grabbing him by the tie, telling him how good he looked. 

But again, why not? It’s all in good fun. And so what if his heart was hammering in his chest the whole time? Steve is super hot—it was a normal physiological reaction to have. Seeing Steve’s eyes dilate when Bucky had a grip on him, that was normal, too. Biological urges, totally natural. He’s spent most of the week considering some assorted biological urges he’d like to indulge in with Steve, as a matter of fact. 

Because tonight is draft night, at Steve’s place, and he’s hoping for a private after party. As fabulous as it felt to go down on him, he’s hoping this time he can get that huge dick that Steve’s packing inside him. He’s hoping those biological urges mean Steve would enjoy ramming his gigantic cock so deep inside Bucky, he’ll feel it next week. 

Just as he’s getting ready to head over to Steve’s apartment, Becca calls. He lets it ring, vacillating between answering it and letting it go to voicemail. He’s already been dodging her all week, though, so he picks up and tries to sound like he hasn’t screwed anyone lately. 

“Hey Becs, what’s up?”

“Bucky, hey, just wanted to check in and see how you and Zeus are doing.”

He keeps his voice even. “We’re good, how are things with you? Work okay?”

Becca loves to talk about work. Or complain about work, depending upon who you asked. He figures that’s a sure fire way to distract her.

“Oh, yeah, nothing unusual.” She pauses and he thinks she’s about to go into a work story, but no such luck. “So how are you and your _golf instructor_ doing? Anything new to report?” 

“I hate sand traps.”

She blows an exasperated sigh at him through the phone. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Bucky.”

 _Damnit._ He chews on his lip. Spill? Or don’t spill? What will have more dire consequences, not telling her and having her find out later? Or telling her now and having to listen to her well-meaning but unsolicited relationship advice? _Not telling her_ will end badly for him. But he’s not in the mood to have a long conversation right now. He takes the cheap way out. 

“Um, yeah, sooooo…we slept together.” Then he races through the next words so she can’t interrupt. “Draft night tonight, gotta go. Talk later, bye!” 

He ends the call before she can even react, grinning to himself. She’s probably furious, but she’ll calm down by the time he speaks to her again. Only a few seconds pass before his phone is buzzing with a text message from her. _Boy can she type fast!_ he thinks, and quickly scans it. 

_You WHAT? You can’t hide from me forever, you know._ A little devil emoji accompanies the text. 

He smiles and shoves his phone into his pocket. _No, but I can for tonight._

After grabbing his contribution to the party from the fridge, a tray of cheese and crackers and some beer, and saying good-bye to his dog, he traipses down the hall to Steve’s. Pretty much everyone is there already and he gets to meet Scott, another resident in the complex, and Tony, a co-worker of Steve’s. Steve’s not wearing a tie, but he still looks amazing. 

Bucky hasn’t talked to Thor to see how far the news has traveled, but as soon as the handsome man makes eye contact with him, he mouths the word _sorry_ , and Bucky sighs, expecting the worst, but actually feeling okay with that. He can take some ribbing in exchange for getting naked with Steve. _Do your worst_ , he grimaces. Steve is worth it. 

And actually, not that much happens. Sure, Clint gets in their faces just when he and Steve are alone in the kitchen and Steve is in the middle of asking him about his plans for later, but he knows how to get him to back off, and Steve follows his lead. Clint has no problem being friends with gay guys, but start talking about gay sex and he’ll run for the hills. Pronto. 

So after they drive him out of the kitchen, Bucky makes certain he gets Steve’s full attention by crooking his finger at him and bringing him in. The sexy blond puts his ear directly next to Bucky’s mouth so he can whisper into it, “And later? I _wanna._ ” 

The look Steve gives him could melt the polar icecaps. _So_ worth it. More teasing? Sure! There’s Peter, who provides the brilliant idea of sharing football season tickets, but also feels the need to comment on their change in status. 

“Steve wants to go with Bucky,” Peter announces, when Clint assigns Thor to share tickets with him.

“Shut up, Peter,” Steve intones. Poor Steve; he seems to take the ribbing harder than Bucky does. He looks so absolutely flustered that Bucky just can’t help ganging up on him, too. It’s a guy thing. Instinctual to go for the proverbial kill. 

“You saying you don’t want to go with me?”

He can’t hide his smile, but does gulp back down the laughter that threatens to erupt at seeing Steve’s kicked puppy dog look. Oh Steve. It’s endearing, how easy he is to tease, and how gullible he seems to be. But when Peter keeps on, Bucky does relent and get him off Steve’s back. Natasha and Clint have warned him about what will happen if the comments go too far, but Bucky makes sure he knows exactly what’s what.

He slides closer to Steve, eyes on Peter, and wraps his arm clear around him, gripping his shoulder, in an obviously intimate way. Next to him, Steve leans into his side, just a little, and it has the unexpected effect of making Bucky’s stomach flutter. It’s oddly distracting, but he can’t think about that right now. It does feel nice to have his arm around him…nicer than he expected it to. Even nicer yet when he touches the back of Steve’s neck as he withdraws his arm. And Peter gets the point. 

So does Scott, who has the balls to ask if they’ve seen each other naked. Steve sounds like a soprano when he comes back with a “Jesus, Scott!” but Bucky just smiles. Whatever. Still totally worth it. 

\--

Finally the draft is done, and Bucky’s pretty stoked with his team. Even more importantly, he’s enjoyed the evening a tremendous amount; these guys are great to spend time with. He actually feels like he _belongs_ here. But still, he’s glad when the room starts to empty out. Natasha and Sam are the last to go, and from the glance the redhead gives Steve, it’s easy to guess Sam told her what’s going on. They clear out without any smart ass comments, though, thank goodness, and leave the two of them alone for the night. 

“So…” Steve says, looking mighty tasty down on the other side of the couch. His short hair is spiked up in the front and his thighs, only half concealed by his shorts, are thick and strong. Thighs he’d like to feel slapping against his backside. Tonight.

“So…” he repeats, and slides down the couch over to Steve’s end.

One of Steve’s warm hands slips around his neck and draws him in, and _ohmigod_ when Steve kisses him it’s just like last time. His brain shorts out and all he can think about is how soft his lips are, how wet his tongue is, how freaking good it feels to explore with his own probing tongue and just melt against him, just let himself get lost in his desire.

Steve kisses him slowly, thoroughly, like they have all night long to be with each other. Do they? He’ll worry about that later. Steve slides his fingers into the hair at the back of Bucky’s dark head to cradle it, and Bucky seeks out his other hand, finding it and twining their fingers together. He doesn’t really know why he wanted to, he just _did_ , and couldn’t seem to think of any good reason not to. 

That’s his philosophy with Steve now. If there’s no good reason not to, just do it. Whatever feels good. As long as Steve’s not complaining, why not? So if he wants to kiss him until his lips fall off, he’s going to do it. Whatever “friends with benefits” usually entails, Bucky doesn’t give a hoot. This can be whatever they want it to be, and hang everyone else. They’re going to give each other whatever they want, whatever they need. For as long as it takes. 

He hasn’t actually verbalized this to his partner, but gets the impression Steve is with him on this anyway. He doesn’t seem to mind making out, in fact, he’s pretty into it, too, so Bucky takes full advantage of that little perk. They’re kissing heavily when Steve gently pushes him down onto his back and gets on top of him on the couch. Bucky decides right then and there, this is his new favorite thing _ever_. Steve’s monster thighs surround his, clamping down possessively, and his chest presses down into Bucky’s, so snug and perfect. He can feel Steve’s heartbeat against his, and the heat between them is off the charts. Steve can stay on top of him for, well, _forever_. 

A low moan crosses his lips and vibrates against Steve’s, as Bucky feels his way up his back with both hands, touching him everywhere. Damn, those muscles. Every part of Steve is hard and defined, and _shit_ , Steve just rocked his pelvis down against his and let him feel how hard and defined another part of him is. Instinctively Bucky grabs onto that ass and pushes his own body upward, thrusting his own rigid shaft against Steve’s. Hot blood courses through his veins and his cock throbs happily with need. 

It’s deliriously rewarding. 

Steve’s answering moan is longer, louder, even more potent than Bucky’s was, and Bucky _loves_ it. Steve pulls back to look at him, and there’s no more blue in those eyes; they’re all black with lust. His face is flushed, lips red and puffy, hair ruffled up artfully. He’s beautiful. But because Bucky is a shit, he grinds his cock right into Steve’s again and teases breathlessly, “Now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?”

The way Steve smiles at him, he can’t wait to hear the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut incoming. Duck and cover, people. Sorry this update took so long. Sometimes real life just gives you a big smack on the ass. And not in a good way. :D


	8. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut and more smut. All aboard the Smut Train, first stop, Smuttyville.

Chapter Eight 

Bucky’s hands still cup Steve’s delectable ass as the muscled blond presses himself down against him. Their bare legs tangle together, knees knocking and thighs rubbing, and even through the rest of their clothes, Bucky can feel the heat of Steve’s body sinking into his own. It gets better when Steve puts his lips directly next to his ear. 

“I want to feel you from the inside. And we’re not stopping until we’ve fucked each other unconscious.”

 _Fucking hell._ Bucky’s pretty sure only Steve can get away with talking like that, and have the words sound hotter than an inferno. Oh wait, that’s Bucky’s _cock_ that’s the burning inferno. He grips Steve’s cheeks in his hands a little more tightly and tries to breathe without sounding like he’s desperate for Steve to take him. Which he is. 

“That might take quite a while,” he half jokes. Actually he’s hoping it takes a good long while, but who’s counting? 

The look in Steve’s eye communicates the fact that Bucky is about to be devoured, and Bucky’s already-hard cock likes that idea so much that it pushes obscenely against the object closest to it…which just happens to be Steve’s cock. His erection is already well on the way to the spectacular category, judging by the feel of it. And he recalls with perfect clarity how huge (and hugely satisfying) it was to have had his mouth on it the other day. Just wait till he gets it inside him. Bucky grinds a little just for a fleeting chance at some friction between them, then is distracted by Steve’s mouth, as it starts doing obscene things to him. 

Making good on his expression, Steve leans in and wraps his soft lips right around Bucky’s ear lobe, nipping at it gently before whispering to him, “I’m counting on it.”

 _I am too, babe._ Questing lips taste him ever so lightly before Steve adds just a hint of teeth, pulling down on the exposed skin of his lobe. Warm breath teases him. His body is so close, caging Bucky’s form underneath his; Bucky is almost quivering with need. Steve’s weight on him is divine, but their clothes are really too much. Why are they still wearing them? He needs to get his bare hands on all that smooth, golden skin above him.

“And it sounds pretty exhausting,” he manages to groan, before giving in and sliding both his hands up and under his partner’s shirt. That’s so much better; even the soft cotton of Steve’s shirt was getting in the way of those sweet contours. His back is amazing, all hard planes and a wide expanse of sculpted muscle on either side of his spine, just waiting to be explored and memorized.

“I’m counting on that, too,” Steve murmurs into his ear, and attacks it with more fervor. Bucky thinks he probably sighs or moans a little, or maybe a whole lot, but can’t really keep track of the sounds his body is emitting during Steve’s onslaught. It’s filthy and erotic, the way his new lover writhes against him and licks and sucks at his ear and upper jaw. The tiny sounds of satisfaction he’s making mingle with Bucky’s. It’s like he can’t get enough of the brunet, when really Bucky feels like it’s the other way around.

He lets Steve have his way with him, enjoying the feel of his lips and tongue moving over his skin. As soon as Steve takes a break and frees his lips from his earlobe, Bucky turns his face to his and kisses him again, hard and fast, before he has a chance to do anything else. The taste and scent of Steve is so intoxicating, he needs that mouth on his, needs to experience his kiss over and over. He lets his fingers settle into the valley of Steve’s lower back, gets in a sufficient amount of tongue-time, and then pulls his head back for more banter. 

“We might not even be able to stand up afterwards.”

“Bonus,” Steve returns, in a voice like soft butter. 

On the whole, Bucky would have to say he’s not usually this chatty before sex, but Steve is _so_ fun to flirt with, it would be a shame to miss out on such a prime opportunity. Steve acts like every word that comes out of Bucky’s mouth is especially arousing. It’s crazy. Plus, he makes him feel so desirable, it’s really a boost to his self-confidence. The fact that Steve, gorgeous Steve, who could have anyone on the planet that he wanted, would choose Bucky… it defies logic. But Bucky isn’t complaining. Far from it. 

In fact, he might be moaning again, because Steve is now layering kisses down one side of his jaw, pressing his talented lips to his skin in soft, slow, heated pulses. Occasionally his nose ghosts along his skin, along with gentle wisps of warm breath, but mostly it’s those delicate, pliable lips forming themselves to the shape of his jaw and neck, up, down and around. _Everywhere._

Now he’s definitely moaning again, a long, low, throaty growl that makes his heart stutter and his cock jump, because Steve fists his hair in his hand and takes his head back so he can get to that soft spot under his jaw, kissing and licking at him until he whimpers in need. It’s such a _possessive_ move, and Bucky loves it. He wants to be possessed by Steve, wants to be taken into the bedroom and be fondled and kissed and worshipped. To have Steve make him his. Because having that incredible being spend the time and energy it takes to bring _him_ to orgasm…it’s beyond rewarding. Beyond description. 

He ignores the tiny voice in his head that says he shouldn’t want that. The voice that speaks of attachment and belonging, of sharing his mind and his heart with this man and not just his body. He ignores that because those are relationship words and this is only about sex. Hard sex. He and Steve are going to fuck each other blind, and it doesn’t _mean_ anything other than they enjoy each other’s physical forms. 

_Yeah, right_. 

What? Apparently one corner of his brain is made of sarcasm, and is putting up a fight. Bucky attempts to squash down those thoughts by running his hands up Steve’s back and marveling in that beautiful creation, and it helps too that Steve brings their mouths back together, crushing him with a lusty, open-mouthed kiss while he ruts against him. The physical sensations drown out the voices arguing in his head. There is a growing wet spot on the front of Bucky’s shorts, just where Steve is pushing against him, and shit, would it be nice if their clothes magically disappeared and he could get a hand on Steve’s thick length. 

He’s thinking about Steve’s delicious cock as they make out, wondering with excited anticipation how it’s going to feel when Steve enters him and fills him up with his broad, thick shaft. How it’s going to feel with Steve moving inside him. He’s ninety-nine percent sure the answer is _fantastic_ ; the other one percent is in case the answer is something beyond fantastic that he just can’t think of at the moment. Bucky is a man who likes to be prepared for anything. 

Or maybe preparation is overrated…they’re kissing so hard, clutching at each other with such ferocity he sort of temporarily forgets how to breathe. And maybe Steve forgets, too, because he sounds winded when he breaks off the kiss to exclaim, “Fuck! You’re so goddamned hot. You don’t know what you do to me.”

There’s that irony again. What _he_ does to _Steve?_ “I can’t wait to find out,” he parries, and his eyes dart to the hallway that leads to the bedroom. He’s got a list of things he wants Steve to do to him, and it’s burning a hole in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Nodding in hurried agreement, Steve hauls himself up and off the couch. The loss of heat and sensation would be much more bothersome if Bucky didn’t know better things were yet to come. Steve pulls him up by the hand and then _keeps_ it as they traverse the hallway, and it makes Bucky’s heart hammer in his chest. He twines their fingers together as they walk. _Yes yes yes._ Okay, so he’s a sucker for hand-holding. He’s man enough to admit it. It’s such a simple gesture but so intimate, and it just feels so sweet, Bucky adores it.

Steve only lets go of him when they reach the bedroom, he flips on a small light, and starts to undress him. Bucky is quickly divested of his shirt; Steve simultaneously gives him an order in that smooth voice of his, now made a tiny bit rougher by lust.

“Clothes. Off.”

Normally, Bucky’s not into being bossed around, but in this case, he’ll make an exception. Only if Steve follows suit, though. More kissing helps. Steve leans in and waits for Bucky to meet his eyes. When he does so he is struck by just how beautiful Steve really is, hair ruffled, lips kiss-bruised, eyes darkened. He opens his mouth slightly, as much in awe as it is in desire, and Steve moves in the rest of the way, taking his lips in another hot meeting, pressing their mouths together seamlessly.

Bucky reaches down and tries to pull Steve’s shirt off, but is stymied by Steve’s insistent hands, getting in the way and fumbling with Bucky’s belt at the same time. Really, Steve? Fair is fair, after all. _Your turn_.

“Take off your shirt,” he interrupts the kiss to insist, repeatedly pulling at the bunched up material of the offending shirt.

“You take off your shorts,” Steve demands, and practically rips off his belt in his haste. 

Bucky will not be denied, though. He gets Steve’s shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor without care where it lands, then mashes their lips together again. He turns his head to the side and happily dissolves into Steve for a deep, tongue-filled kiss that lasts what seems an eternity. He could do this with Steve all day and all night, because for one thing, Steve is just really great at kissing, and for another thing, it gives Bucky a nice, tingly, warm feeling reverberating all through his body.

Not that it means anything. It’s just foreplay. That’s what he’s in the middle of telling himself when Steve runs his hands up his chest, fondles his nipples, and makes Bucky nearly come in his shorts, with a sharp jolt of pleasure. God, those hands Steve has. They should be registered as lethal weapons… and he sure as hell isn’t referring to his fighting skills. He gasps right into Steve’s mouth while they’re kissing, it’s so exquisite. All Steve has to do is touch him, and he’s jelly. 

Then Steve inexplicably stops so he can look down and remove Bucky’s remaining clothing, and that’s just unacceptable. Pure and simple. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispers.

He is ignored as Steve pushes his clothes down and off his body, so he repeats himself, a little more insistently. “Steve.” Honestly, he just likes saying his name, and likes the way Steve responds to it… most of the time. Steve is still looking down, for whatever reason, holding him at his hips, so he takes his chin in his hand and angles his face back up to his.

“What?!” Steve says in a distracted tone. What, like he’s never seen a dick before? It makes Bucky smile. 

“You stopped kissing me. My lips are getting lonely,” he teases, and that gets his lover smiling, too. 

“Are you seriously giving me shit right now?” Steve needles back. “You’re playing with fire.”

 _Don’t I know it._ Steve is _all_ fire, deliciously so. Bucky dips his head in, dragging his plump lower lip across Steve’s seductively. “But I like playing with fire,” he taunts. “And you haven't kissed me enough yet.”

Seriously. Not enough kissing. He _needs_ more. Steve just smiles and shakes his head. “Fuck you,” he jokes, but Bucky will take him up on that, thank you very much. 

“I’m counting on it.”

Before Steve can respond to that, Bucky tips his head forward and they resume their kiss, still hungry for each other. Bucky reaches down for the button and zipper on Steve’s shorts. He certainly hasn’t forgotten that while he’s now naked, Steve is not. Now that he’s fixed the lack-of-kissing problem, he can work on the not-yet-naked problem. 

Moving his hands up out of Bucky’s way, Steve holds him at his biceps while Bucky strips him bare and takes a step in closer. They’re both fully erect, and as soon as his cock touches Steve’s, it’s like fireworks going off. He can’t help but thrust himself in toward him, pulling at his hips at the same time. They’re both wet at the tip and so hard, it’s like crossing swords. Steve makes a groaning sound, deep and quiet, when their cocks slide past each other, and slips his hand down and over Bucky’s length, holding them together as they gyrate against each other, rubbing their cocks together over and over. 

Steve circles his palm around Bucky’s shaft and presses his thumb in at the tip, and _oh sweet jesus_ it’s so hot, Bucky lets out an randy moan of his own. It gets swallowed up in Steve’s mouth, but soon they break apart when Steve starts jacking him off. Bucky has his face buried in Steve’s neck as Steve strokes him, fisting his cock, pumping his hand up and down. He was leaking so much that his cock is now pretty well smeared with his own pre-cum.

He whimpers and moans from the back of his throat, eyes closed as Steve works him over. Hand job didn’t actually make the list for tonight, but it’s pretty fucking good regardless. Steve holds him firmly, pulling and twisting his hand as he jerks him off. It’s fabulous, and wanting more, Bucky rocks his hips as well, pushing his cock in and out of Steve’s hand. 

“Oh yeah, Steve…fuck! Oh God,” he babbles, hoping Steve is going to keep going and finish him off. He’d like to come all over Steve’s stomach, paint him with his release and then have Steve turn him around and bury his cock inside him to return the favor. That doesn’t seem to be part of Steve’s plan, though, for he slows down instead of speeding up, and the pad of his thumb toys with the slit at the head of his cock.

Plan B it is, then. B for blowjob, because that _DEFINITELY_ made the list. “Steve, put your mouth on me,” Bucky begs him. God, he wants to come. Steve has him hovering on the brink between ecstasy and torture, his body nothing but swirling flames of desire. He grips him by the cheeks of his sexy ass, holding him close, hoping for _some_ kind of contact between his cock and _any_ part of Steve’s body.

“You want me to go down on you? Suck your dick?”

Either Bucky’s brain is going to explode, or his cock is, because dirty-talking Steve is just the end all, be all of Sexy Things in the Universe. His voice is low and sultry, and the look he gives Bucky is enough to make him beg for _anything_.

“Yes. Suck me,” Bucky whispers, breaths coming hard and fast. He’s almost sweating already, he’s so turned on, and Steve’s hand on him has never stopped moving.

“Lie down then,” Steve orders him, and once again, Bucky will make an exception for the bossiness. He gladly scrambles up on the bed on his back and waits for Steve to come to him. 

It’s actually more like Steve is on the prowl, stalking him as he gets up on the bed and throws one of Bucky’s legs to the side so he can get in between them. He’s watching Bucky all the while, taking short, shallow breaths like Bucky is, apparently enjoying keeping him just on the edge of orgasm. He drops his head down but doesn’t swallow his cock yet…instead he sucks at the tender skin on the inside of his thighs, giving him love bites all over both.

Damn, is it hard to be patient and not jerk himself off. Bucky manages it, but only because he’s sure his patience will be rewarded eventually. He ignores the throbbing in between his legs and instead focuses on the wicked things Steve is doing to him with his mouth, and the way his hands explore while his mouth is busy. His fingers brush over every part of skin he can reach and then double back, settling on his inner thighs again. 

His mouth is all over Bucky’s lower half, kissing, sucking, doing everything that drives Bucky crazy. Eventually he works his way back up to his erection, which is a good thing because Bucky is so ready to come he wants to howl. Just as he thinks Steve is ready to suck him down, his partner purses his lips and blows a gentle puff of air over his burning hot length. 

An agonized moan bleeds from Bucky’s mouth and he begs, “Steve…please.” He’s not sure if he can wait any longer. That jerking motion his cock just made when the wave of air hit him almost finished him off, hands-free. 

Steve to the rescue. “You’ve been good, so I’m gonna make this good for you,” he promises, and runs a finger down one side of Bucky’s pelvis, right to the base of his cock. From there his tongue takes over as he licks up one side and then takes the head into his mouth. He’s still teasing Bucky though; he closes his lips around him and mouths the tip gently, lovingly, using barely any pressure at all. He suckles the head carefully, like his cock is a delicate flower that must not be damaged. It’s sweet torment. 

Steve’s fingers caress his thighs. His tongue wraps around the tip of his cock, licking at it, circling it slowly, until Bucky’s brain is fried and he can’t form speech anymore. Gutteral moans escape periodically. It’s the best he can do. The tongue keeps moving, sliding wetly around him and up and down, tasting every bit of his broad head. Bucky does manage to grab at Steve’s hair and clutch at it in desperation. 

Finally Steve decides he’s waited long enough, slips the head of his cock back into his mouth and slides down all the way, as deeply as he can, till Bucky can feel the back of his throat nudging him. His breath explodes out of his chest, God, it’s so good. Steve sucks at him hard, slowly at first, taking him in deep and then pulling off almost all the way, bobbing his head up and down rhythmically. 

Bucky closes his eyes and still sees stars starting to form at the edges of his visual field. Steve’s head moves up and down, mouth plastered tightly around his shaft, with Bucky’s fingers still embedded in his hair. Bucky pushes his head back into the pillow behind him, panting helplessly. He starts to fuck into Steve’s mouth, rapidly thrusting his pelvis up and down, but Steve isn’t having any of that. 

Firmly and insistently, his palms press down into either side of Bucky’s hip bones, stilling his motion. Bucky hears, and is unable to stop, the pained groan that comes out of his own mouth. Still, he obediently keeps his hips down and lets Steve do what he wants, because what he wants is apparently to drive Bucky insane with lust. Steve’s cheeks hollow again, for the umpteenth time, lips sliding up and down faster now, and Bucky wordlessly screams out his bliss, back arching up off the bed. 

Granted, it’s been a while, but he doesn’t remember blow jobs being this _intense_. He can feel it starting, his balls tightening up, the blood pounding in his veins, the feeling like a hurricane of ecstasy is coming and there’s no stopping it. It’s everywhere, filling him up. He tries to warn Steve.

“Holy shit, Steve, yes,” he croaks out. “Yes…oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

And then it’s upon him, a bone-cracking, spasm-inducing orgasm. His whole body shudders as he comes, spurting erratically right into Steve’s mouth. Steve, who doesn’t pull off but instead sucks harder, taking it all. Steve, with his glistening, wet lips that are still sucking him, and his soft, slick tongue that teases and tastes him. Steve, who just gave him a mind-altering orgasm but hasn’t come yet himself. 

He waits until Bucky is coming down, cock softening, before he releases him. Maybe he wants a blow job, too? Bucky’s certainly not opposed to putting his lips on Steve’s super-sized shaft; the main problem with that is, he’s not too sure he can move right now from off his back, feeling as boneless as he does. So unless Steve is going to climb up on top of him and try to jam his cock into his mouth at an uncomfortable angle, that might not work out so well. Steve does move up onto the bed further, but he’s reaching into the bedside table, not trying to get Bucky to swallow him.

As soon as Bucky sees the bottle of lube that Steve comes up with, he excitedly shares his thoughts. “I hope you’re gonna use that on me.” 

Apparently one corner of Steve’s brain is made of sarcasm, too. “Actually I was gonna use it on that _other_ naked guy in the room with us,” he jokes. 

“Smart ass,” is Bucky’s clever rejoinder. Hey, he just got blown and his brain hasn’t really caught up to current events yet. Snappy comebacks are beyond him.

“And you have a gorgeous ass,” Steve returns. “I can’t wait to fuck your gorgeous ass,” he adds, squirting copious amounts of lube onto his fingers. 

Bucky thanks his lucky stars for that, because it’s been a long time since anything but his fingers have been inside him. He’s nervous but at the same time exhilarated. ”Then hurry up,” he teases, giving Steve a smile. He doesn’t want to dump all his past relationship shit on him, or dwell on the fact that he hasn’t been with anyone because he’s been a fucking wreck for so long.

Steve gives his leg a gentle push so Bucky will bend his knees for him, and moves in closer. Probing fingers find his entrance and rub over it slowly, not penetrating him yet. A shiver runs through Bucky’s body, his puckered skin spasming reflexively. Oh, Steve. _Please, yes. Take me._ He bends his knees up higher.

“How long has it been for you?” 

The question is posed tentatively, as if Steve knows what a touchy subject this is and is almost afraid to ask. Bucky hesitates and closes his eyes. It’s just a simple question. He’s being thoughtful, after all, not invasive. 

“Over a year.”

The words are whispered, but at least he got them out. Suddenly he worries that Steve will interpret his difficulty answering his question as doubt, and he opens his eyes again, directing them to his lover. 

“But I want you to. I want you inside me.”

Steve does look relieved at that…relieved, and aroused. That beautiful face, now focused entirely on him as he carefully pushes one finger inside. He’s moving slowly, but it _has_ been a while, and Bucky grits his teeth. 

Steve’s expression is one of worry. His progress halts for the moment so he can reassure him, “I’ve got you. Tell me if it’s too much.”

Something inside Bucky’s chest goes all gooey and soft. Steve is _concerned_ for his comfort, and his pleasure. “It’s not too much,” he tells him, and the _want_ he feels for this man just increased exponentially. He’s one hundred percent ready for Steve to fuck into him, fill his body until he can’t take any more. He may even be able to get it up again soon.

Then Steve adds another finger and _holy shit holy shit holy shit_ , finds that bundle of nerves that makes his whole body sing. His flexing fingers stroke over Bucky’s spot many times over, and they’re back in business. Bucky makes low, keening moans, fisting the sheets in his hands until Steve ducks his head down and kisses the top of his thigh, right in one of his sensitive spots. 

Quickly he abandons the sheets and digs his fingers into Steve’s hair again, making a dirty-sounding noise he’s not sure has ever come out of his mouth before. Steve kisses him and then sucks harder, biting down on several spots, at the same time he’s pumping his fingers in and out, scissoring and stretching him. It’s so much to take in, but so amazing at the same time. 

Steve is so unlike any lover he’s ever had before, so giving, gentle when he needs to be. Bucky hopes, no, he’s confident, that Steve will be aggressive when Bucky wants him to be as well. When Steve withdraws his fingers, pulls Bucky up higher on his legs, and gets ready to push in with his lubed-up cock, he waits long enough for Bucky to back out if he decides he really doesn’t want to do this.

“Bucky…” he starts breathlessly, but Bucky doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. 

“Don’t make me wait. I’m ready.”

 _Fuck_ , is he ready. He’s been thinking about this for what seems like ages. Then suddenly Steve is _inside_ him, thrusting all the way in deep, and Bucky can only moan out his pleasure in a deep, sated stream of senseless bleats. It’s everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about. Steve is moaning too, and starting to move within him, slowly at first, giving Bucky time to adjust. 

“Buck…” he whines, “Oh my God, you’re so…you feel so good.”

He pulls almost all the way out, then pumps his hips, starting a rhythm that steadily increases in tempo. Soon his pelvis is snapping forward and back with a lot more zing; he’s holding Bucky at his hips, pulling him down on his own shaft as much as he is driving his own body forward. Bucky grabs onto Steve’s forearms, pulling him onto his cock just as much.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time. They’re both still gasping and grunting, and just as he knew it, Steve isn’t holding back at all. He’s glistening with sweat, his naked chest heaving and shiny at the center of those superhuman pecs, face and neck flushed red. He’s thrusting into Bucky with so much force, the top of his head is going to start banging on the headboard soon. 

Bucky doesn’t let go of Steve’s arms, though. It’s helping him ground himself, because all he can do at this point is hang on for dear life. Steve’s barrage is savage and delicious and incredible, his hips pistoning in and out faster, striking Bucky’s prostate with every pass. Bucky’s got his eyes screwed shut, but he can tell his cock has gotten completely hard again, and is dribbling down the side and onto his stomach.

And oh, how he wants Steve to get him off a second time. He’s almost there…he lifts his hips to meet Steve each time he slams down on him, and that pretty much takes him over the edge.

“Steve,” he croaks out, throat raw from all of the moaning. “Fuck…fuck me… I’m gonna come.”

As soon as the words exit his mouth, it’s happening. He arches further off the bed and writhes, careening into a gut-punching orgasm. Silky ropes of his release shoot out over his belly and chest. Steve bears down on him and grinds against his ass, keeping himself fully embedded inside Bucky’s channel, and Bucky can tell he’s coming too. His grip gets even stronger and he cries out passionately, legs quivering against Bucky’s backside. 

After a heart-throbbing minute, they both finish riding out their orgasms and still their movements. Steve is breathing heavily above him and is slow to pull out, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He can barely move himself. Somehow Steve manages to walk, not crawl, to the bathroom and brings back a warm, wet cloth for Bucky to clean himself up with. After they’ve both made themselves more presentable, Bucky still hasn’t moved from his place, and doesn’t particularly feel like moving. Maybe he’ll just rent some space on Steve’s bed and stay here. 

Steve curls up next to him, tucking his head into the space above Bucky’s shoulder, and it feels so wonderful, he almost sighs out loud. Instead he gives him a heads up, in case Steve already had plans for this real estate. 

“I wasn’t kidding about that standing up part,” he murmurs quietly. “I might need a minute.”

There is a low chuckle from next to him. “Take all the minutes you want.”

 _Ahhhhhh._ Mentally he relaxes, and without meaning to, he drifts off to sleep, with Steve next to him. He wakes almost an hour later with a start, and is momentarily disoriented. The space is not his, and there’s a warm body next to him, with one arm slung across his chest. 

_I’m with Steve._ It’s a good feeling, waking up with Steve, so good that somewhere in the back of his brain, an alarm bell goes off. It’s a quiet alarm and easy to forget about, though. His more immediate problem is how to wake Steve up, because he’s breathing deeply and rhythmically, still slumbering. His arm weighs a ton on top of him.

He picks the arm up and lays it down gently on Steve’s stomach. Nope. Still asleep. Bucky hunts down his clothes and gets dressed, all the while re-living their time together in his head. Damn, is his ass gonna be sore tomorrow, but it was totally worth it. He’ll likely have some serious hickeys, too, but Steve was thoughtful enough not to leave them in any places that will show when he’s at work. 

In fact, he kind of _likes_ the fact that Steve marked him up. No, not _kind of_. He absolutely likes it; it makes him feel like Steve claimed him for his own. _Mine._ And even if it is just physical need, he still likes it. His cock tugs a bit at that thought and he readjusts himself before sitting down on the bed next to his lover, laying a hand on his bicep. Finally Steve stirs and wakes when he feels Bucky touch him, and blinks blearily at him. 

It’s the cutest thing Bucky’s ever seen. 

“Hey…gotta go,” he whispers, running his hand up and down Steve’s arm, just because he can. “No, don’t get up. I can let myself out,” he adds, when Steve makes a move to sit up. 

“But you can’t lock the door,” Steve says in a sleepy voice. _Oh yeah, the door._ He pushes up to sitting and sticks his knuckles in his eyes, rubbing at them. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Me either,” Bucky agrees, but smiles because he’s not sorry, not really. After sex _that_ energetic, they both needed a nap. “See you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies and yawns widely. “You go ahead, I’ll get the door in a sec.”

“Okay.” 

Then Bucky’s up and on his way, shutting Steve’s door quietly behind him, already wondering when he can come back for more. The hallway is deserted, but Zeus meets him at the door when he unlocks it and steps into his own place. His dog is wiggling like he hasn’t seen him in days, and a low whine fills the air. Bucky gets down on his knees and Zeus practically crawls up to his shoulders, trying to lick his face. 

“Okay, boy, get down,” Bucky whispers, laughing. “Wanna go out?”

Zeus knows what those words mean, and turns around in excited circles as Bucky grabs the leash from the table next to the door. He’s tired and would like to just go crash in his own bed, but duty calls. Once they are outside in the darkness and Zeus is sniffing around for a good spot to pee, the fatigue sets in even heavier. 

A giant yawn just about cracks his face in half. The air is pleasantly cool around him. They’re in the courtyard, and the moon is bright above them. There are a few lights on in different units, but no one else is about. His thoughts stray to Steve almost immediately. Steve’s hands on him. Steve’s mouth on him. Steve fucking him right through the mattress on his bed. They’re pretty good thoughts, but his quiet solitude is broken when a sliding glass door further down opens and a dark figure steps out past a patio set, visible only in dark outlines.

“Hey Bucky!” the voice rings out. “Whatcha doin’?”

It’s Clint. “Hey Clint!” Bucky looks down. Enough light from the apartment next to them is thrown their way that Zeus is visible lifting his leg on the grass. “We’re peeing, what’s it look like?” Bucky razzes him. “What are you doing?”

Clint puts his hands on his hips and arches his back, stretching. “Just got done cleaning my oven. Needed a breath of fresh air.”

Bucky snorts. “Do you even know what time it is?”

Clint laughs. “Never a bad time for Scrubbing Bubbles, Barnes. You playing in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “You?” Zeus kicks up some grass next to him. 

“Hell yeah. I always play better when I’m full of beer.” He waves as Bucky chokes down a laugh. “Sweet dreams.”

“G’night, Clint.” 

He watches the man retreat back inside, pulling the glass door shut behind him, and looks down again. Zeus was watching as well, and looks up at his master, nose quivering.

“Ready?” He tugs the leash and they head back inside. Bucky has no doubt his dreams are going to be plenty sweet tonight.


	9. It's Not A Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Zeus emergency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still promise, no animals were hurt in the making of this fic.

Chapter Nine 

When Bucky and Zeus return upstairs, Bucky picks up his phone from the bedside table and checks it for messages before turning in. His mouth curves into a smile. There is one more text from his sister. 

_Lunch tomorrow. You owe me._

Fortunately, he happens to be free for lunch the next day. Basketball comes first, though; as usual, he takes Zeus down that morning and they play till they sweat like fiends. It’s a good game, but Steve doesn’t get to guard him. Now that Bucky’s had a chance to be on a team with Steve and be on the opposing team, he’s decided he prefers to be on the opposing team. That’s because when Steve guards him, he looks at him like he wants to eat him whole, like a predator examines its prey before pouncing on it. Of course, there’s no real pouncing, not in front of everyone else anyway, but it reminds Bucky enough of their bedroom exploits to be a very enjoyable experience. 

As he and Becca dig into their lunches his mind wanders, thinking about Steve’s hands and all of the remarkable things they can do. They are sitting outside of an eatery they both prefer, at a tiny table with a large yellow patio umbrella over their heads to keep them in the shade. Bucky _was_ enjoying his shrimp scampi, absentmindedly considering how soon he could manage to get Steve to bang him again, until Becca very predictably started in with the questions. So many questions. Ones Bucky doesn’t really care to answer, either, but he knows if he doesn’t give her something, the pestering will just get worse.

“Becca, I just told you, we’re not dating,” Bucky reinforces firmly. Even after using the phrase “friends with benefits”, she still went straight to boyfriend land and asked a bunch of questions about Steve’s job, his family, his medical history, potential rap sheet...the woman is absolutely relentless. 

“We’re friends…it’s casual, that’s all.”

“It’s casual.” She says it not like it’s a question. More like she can’t believe _he_ just said it.

“Yes. Casual,” he insists.

Becca fixes her stare on him pointedly. “It’s been a _year_ , you haven’t looked at anyone twice and you expect me to believe you all of a sudden just decided that casual sex is great?”

Bucky nods in an overly-exaggerated fashion. “Yeah. I did. So you don’t have to give me relationship advice, because it’s not a relationship.” He shovels an extra large bite of food into his mouth and chews strategically. It’s beside the point he can’t actually think of anyone else he’d like to have sex with besides Steve. It’s also beside the point he and Steve have kissed more times than he can count already. That didn’t change anything, did it? It’s still NOT a relationship. 

“Of course it’s a relationship. Everything is a relationship,” she insists. “But you’re trying to tell me it’s not a _romantic_ relationship?” Her eyes continue to bore into him even as she takes a sip of her iced tea.

Ha. That’s an easy one. “It’s not romantic. At all.” He presses his lips together. Romantic stuff means deep eye gazing and making declarations of love, right? Because he and Steve don’t do that. Romantic _doesn’t_ mean he can’t occasionally (or regularly) think affectionate thoughts about him, does it? Or that he can’t look forward to seeing him? Nope, didn’t think so. After all, it’s got to be normal to have those thoughts about someone you’re intimate with. _Good. Glad that’s settled._

“Darcy says she thinks you have feelings for this guy.”

Bucky almost spits out his food. On the good side, as he was still chewing, he could avoid answering this question-that’s-not-a-question with anything other than a shake of his head. Why couldn’t the two women in his life just leave it be, without ganging up on him? He likes Steve, and he likes spending time with Steve, and he likes having sex with Steve. And none of that counts as having feelings for him. So there. 

“So what does Steve expect to get out of this arrangement?”

Blowing air upward from his mouth, he displaces a few strands of hair that had been sneaking down over his forehead in the wind. “Orgasms. He expects orgasms, Becca. That’s it. That’s how friends with benefits works.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “You don’t have to be crude.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

She sets her fork down on her plate and folds her hands together sternly. “I’m not buying it, Bucky.” Her dark head shakes at him. “You’re hiding something.”

“Am not!” he answers loudly. Geez. Can’t a guy just get his rocks off in peace?

“Alright,” she surrenders, holding her hands up in front of her. “Be that way.” 

They both stick out their bottom lips in clear pout mode, but Bucky isn’t giving in. He’s not hiding anything, and his sister can keep her assumptions to herself for a while. And if Bucky can’t wait to be in the company of the sexy blond again, that’s just something _he’s_ going to keep to himself for a while. 

\--

He almost calls off golf on Tuesday night. He can’t possibly golf, because damnit, Steve looks so hot in his just-a-shade-too-tight polo shirt, Bucky wants to go to bed with him immediately. Instead though, he soldiers on, putting up with Steve’s good company for two solid hours while he has his first outing on a real golf course. He doesn’t even feel guilty for staring at Steve’s incredible body as the man takes each swing, because those are _teaching_ moments. He’s _learning_ from Steve, so he’s allowed to fixate on those slender hips and the broad shoulders and the tight, sweet ass that he wants to bury himself inside again…

Golf. They’re golfing. Can’t get _too_ carried away, as nice as that daydream is. He’s hoping to pick up where that fantasy leaves off though, later this week. They all have plans Saturday night to meet at Thor’s, which provides the perfect opportunity to go back to one of their apartments together afterwards. That way he knows Steve doesn’t already have other plans that he would intrude on. Because let’s face it, as brave a face as he put on for his sister with all his “casual sex” talk, it’s still a bit awkward trying to figure out how to make plans in advance for a roll in the hay. 

It’s less awkward and a ton more fun to fantasize about that roll in the hay, which is what Bucky is doing Saturday as he takes Zeus for his walk in the park. Basketball that morning had been aces, because guess who got to guard him again? Steve! His favorite wall of muscle. Not only is it a turn-on the close up way Steve guards him, he could swear Steve backs up into him on purpose while he’s dribbling the ball, too. 

He’s thinking about Steve’s fine-looking ass as Zeus trots down the park trail. Suddenly his dog speeds up and wiggles extra hard; Bucky looks up, down the trail and of course it’s Steve, jogging toward them. Looks like he’s been running for a while; his face is red and he looks pretty sweaty-- _pretty_ being the operative word. How someone so masculine can still look so beautiful, he doesn’t really understand fully. Extraordinary. 

Steve slows to a walk as he nears them and Zeus pulls so hard on his lead, he almost chokes himself. Getting down into a squat, Steve gives them a cheery “hey” and pets the little black dog until he’s a hot, whining mess. Bucky looks down at his dog fondly. Can hardly blame him—Bucky would whine too, if Steve had his hands on him like that, rubbing and stroking him. But maybe he shouldn’t think about that while Steve is down at Bucky’s crotch level. 

They exchange some words, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the rhythm of Steve’s run, so regretfully he lets him continue on and they continue their walk. And all in the blink of an eye, everything changes. He goes from feeling lighthearted and carefree to panicked and terrified. 

One second, it was a calm evening, and in the next, a snarling frenzy. Bucky didn’t even see the stray until it came out of the underbrush directly next to them. He bends down, first instinct to pick up his dog, and in that instant Zeus is not where he thought he’d be. The little dog didn’t run _from_ the danger. Instead he turned and jumped forward, putting himself between the strange dog and his master, protecting him. 

Then it’s just a whirling, gnashing clash of teeth and the sound of angry growls, and Zeus is in trouble, his neck in the other dog’s jaw. Bucky hardly realizes what he’s doing—his only thought is to get that dog off his—when he sees his own fist shoot out and punch the dog on the side of the face, over and over, to get him to let go. 

And suddenly Steve is there, too; Zeus makes a high-pitched squealing noise that he will never, ever forget, and Steve helps him get the dog off of his baby. The dog runs off back into the brush, leaving the carnage behind. There are blood spatters all over the ground, and all he can do is hug Zeus to him like he’s never letting go. _Zeus_. 

Tears spring to his eyes, but he blinks them away, because he’s got to _move_. Everything goes in slow motion, like someone threw a wet blanket on his brain. The scenery around him seems dulled and surreal. Is this what shock is like? Thank goodness Steve is there, because he knows what to do. They’re walking and Steve says something about driving them, and that’s good because what was Bucky going to do? Walk all the way to the vet’s office with a bloodied Zeus crushed to his chest? 

Zeus makes tiny whimpering noises that break his heart a fraction more every time he hears them, and he curses himself again and again for not protecting his dog. How could he have let this happen? It’s his fault. He wishes the dog had gone for him instead of for Zeus. The whispers of comfort he gives seem hollow and empty. 

He has no idea what he says to Steve or what Steve says to him until they get to the car and Steve tells him he has a beach towel he can use. He’s still only firing on two cylinders, though, so he looks at him in confusion. 

“Do you want me to sit on it so we don’t get blood all over your seat?”

Steve gawks back momentarily, like that was the last thing he expected Bucky to say. “It’s for Zeus,” he explains. “I don’t give a shit about the seat.” He hands Bucky the towel. “Put some pressure on the worst bleed, if you can tell where that is.” 

_Oh._ They get in and Bucky presses the towel to the spot on Zeus’s neck where the most blood seems to be issuing forth from. His tiny body jerks violently when the pressure is first applied, but he doesn’t shy away or squirm. Zeus still cries periodically and Bucky still talks to him in what he hopes is a soothing voice, but the trip is agony. 

Aside from providing directions, he and Steve don’t talk. Bucky is so tense, his muscles are like a million rubber bands all stretched taut. When they arrive at the veterinary clinic and he surrenders Zeus over to the vet tech, he feels exhausted and drained of all energy already. He just wants to cry, and he just wants to be alone. 

No, Steve is there and that’s okay, because he’s not trying to coddle him and pat his back and placate him with a lot of promises that they both know can’t be made. He’s there, a quiet, strong presence next to him that is oddly comforting. Most of it is a blur, but Bucky does remember thanking him for his help, and Steve giving him a few words to reassure him. 

And when Bucky tries to take the blame that he knows is rightfully his, Steve is decent enough to try and relieve him of his burden. It doesn’t work, but it’s sweet of him to try. He feels a rush of warmth when he looks at the man sitting next to him, so earnest and forgiving, and he is reminded again how there’s so much more to Steve than just a hot body. 

Maybe he’s someone Bucky can open up to…just a smidge. Not about everything, but some things. He’s struck by the urge to tell him…tell him what happened, how he got Zeus, the shit that led up to it. He’s not even sure where he would start, and it’s all still a jumble of regret and anger and confusion anyway. Bucky stays silent, pondering all of this, until the veterinarian comes back out to the waiting room to see them. 

The best part is, Zeus is alive, and is going to remain alive. A broken leg isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, and for that he’s thankful. His vet promises they can see Zeus when they’re done patching him up, and heads into the back area of the clinic. Bucky slumps back in his seat, relieved beyond words. He almost can’t even answer when his knee is given a little squeeze and Steve exclaims, “Great news!”

It is great news, so great he feels the emotion start to rise up in his chest. He would’ve had a hard time forgiving himself if Zeus wasn’t alright, after everything Zeus had given to him since he came into his life. He’s staring down, eyes unseeing, and must make some sort of noise, a sigh or some sort of blubber, because Steve gets concerned enough to duck his head down and ask if he’s okay. 

“I’m okay,” he answers. “Just…a little emotional.”

Steve seems satisfied with that and doesn’t press, just sympathizes. “Well, that was pretty scary. I know he means a lot to you.”

“You don’t know how much,” Bucky answers, and bites at his lower lip. He’s going to tell him. He owes Steve that much, for everything he’s done tonight. So he opens his mouth and lets it out. Tells him why he went to the shelter in the first place. Tells him what a shit show his life was before that, what an idiot he was for loving and trusting a man who didn’t even love him back. Tells him how he wasted eight years in a relationship that consumed him but went nowhere, and meant nothing.

Bucky never saw it at the time, but after the fact he realized how insidiously his ex-boyfriend had encouraged his dependence on him. How he was always busy whenever Bucky wanted him to spend time with friends together, and how one by one he let those friends slip away over the years. And how did Bucky end up? Alone. He scrubs his forehead with one hand.

“That’s why I can’t do that again,” he tells Steve sadly. “I can’t…I can’t trust someone like that again.”

He expects some grunts or a few platitudes at best, more fish in the sea, blah blah blah. What he doesn’t expect is for Steve to lean toward him and state, “He didn’t deserve your trust. He didn’t deserve you, Buck.”

God, Steve is so fucking _nice_. Bucky searches his face, looking for pity or insincerity, and finds none. Just concern. How did he get so lucky to have someone like Steve fall into his life? 

“I’m glad we met, Steve. You’re a good friend,” he says quietly. 

There is a new look on Steve’s face he can’t quite place, but his voice is heartfelt when he answers back, “I’m glad, too. You moving in here has been the best.” 

Both smiling, they fall into a companionable silence again as they wait. Bucky finds he doesn’t regret spilling his past to Steve, and that it didn’t _hurt_ talking about it as much as he thought it would. There’s still anger there, but the pain seems to have receded some. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. 

He glances up at the TV, remarks about how much he thinks Jeopardy! is a sucky show, and realizes how late it’s getting. Poor Steve’s been sitting here with him for who knows how long. He’s just asked him if he needs to be somewhere and Steve has just denied it when the tech swings through the door and tells them they can come back to see Zeus.

Bucky is out of his chair like a shot, with Steve close behind. Zeus is on the metal exam table, being held by a second female tech. Bucky only has eyes for his dog—he looks groggy, and some of his hair has been shaved off so that stitches could be applied to his wounds, and there’s a beige fiberglass cast on his rear leg. But he’s _alive_ and that’s all that matters. 

He’s at his dog’s side in an instant, trying to figure out how to hug him without hurting him. He’s got to give him some love, of course, settling for a kiss on the top of his tiny head. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve sit down on the bench nearby. His vet, also in the room, gives him another update. Cast, check. Stitches, check. He’s expecting the cone of shame to make an appearance, and is disappointed to hear the vet start talking about _boarding_ his dog while the stitches are in place. 

_Boarding!_ No way! Bucky admits he likes the clinic and staff, but boarding his dog for two weeks? With people who are strangers to him? He presses his lips together and looks down at his dog, who is looking right back at him, obviously longing to get the hell ouf of here. What is he going to do? He can’t take that much time off work on such short notice; they’ve got deadlines to meet. None of his immediate family members work from home. How can he take care of Zeus?

Steve pipes up with a hopeful but unsure, “Darcy?”

It would be a good idea, and Darcy would definitely do it, but no. Bucky grimaces. “She isn’t even going to be here this week, she’s away visiting her sister.”

That’s when Steve opens his mouth again, and the most amazing words come out. “I can watch him.”

Bucky stares. Did Steve really just say that? Would Steve really do that? For him? For Zeus? 

“Really?” he asks, unbelieving, but desperately wanting it. Steve looks back, calm and genuine. It would be perfect. He trusts Steve, Zeus likes him, and he’s right down the hall. Perfect… 

…but it’s too much to ask of a friend. Two weeks, all day while Bucky is at work? 

“Wait, Steve, that’s a lot to ask of you. It’s too much,” Bucky disappointedly sighs. He can’t ask Steve to do this. 

But Steve doesn’t back down. “No it’s not,” he contends. “I can work from home pretty easily, and I want to help.”

Wavering, all it takes is one more look at Zeus’s droopy eyes and sad face for him to agree, and rush to thank Steve for being the most sublime person on the planet. From that point on, he just can’t wait to get out of there and get Zeus home again where he belongs. They go right to Bucky’s door, but of course he didn’t even think about getting his keys out of his pocket while they were in the car, and now his hands are full, carefully cradling his dog.

Fortunately, Steve’s got two good hands he can put to use, so he asks him to find them. He almost needs a private moment when Steve’s fingers dive down into his pocket, brushing against his thigh in their search, but it's soooooooooooo worth it. 

He heads straight for Zeus’s favorite blanket, down on one end of the couch, and gingerly sets him down on it. Steve offers to keep an eye on him so Bucky can get out of his bloody clothes, and he’s just about to take him up on that offer when he remembers that Steve was out on a run when this whole thing started. 

“Crap, you never even got to shower off after your run!” he declares, and assures Steve he’ll be quick so he can get back to his own place and clean up as well. 

Keeping his word, Bucky takes the fastest shower in the history of showers. While he’s in there, he thinks only about Zeus. Well, some stray thoughts about Steve sneak in there, too, but only to marvel again at his generosity and general win at being a decent human being. For real, who else would volunteer to watch someone else’s dog for two weeks? It’s bananas, but he’s not looking this gift horse in the mouth. And he’s going to find some way to thank him for all of this, too. 

As he dresses, he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his shorts from where they lay on the bed. The thing was vibrating like crazy, and he can guess why. They were already supposed to be down at Thor’s place. Briefly, he texts back, explains what happened and why he won’t be down tonight. After all of that commotion, he really just wants to sit down on the couch with Zeus and veg. 

But he hasn’t forgotten Steve, not by a long shot. He’s racking his brain for a way to show his appreciation to him, aside from just lame words, when he emerges from his bedroom in fresh clothes and damp hair.

“You wanna go grab a shower now, Steve?”

Steve is sitting next to a knocked out Zeus, watching Star Wars, and _holy cow is Steve a science fiction fan?_ Something to check out later. He tells Bucky that Zeus is tired, and makes a remark about Thor as well. Bucky shares the fact that he texted their electrician friend already as they both head for the front door. 

“Okay if I come back tomorrow and see how the patient is doing?” Steve asks, and gratitude floods Bucky’s chest. How can he ever make this up to him? He thanks Steve again and promises to repay him, even though he has no fucking clue how he’s going to go about doing that. Also he wants to hug him. Is that allowed? He just helped save Zeus’s life, after all. That deserves a hug. It’s not because he wants to feel Steve’s arms around him, and the comforting heat of his body. 

Before he can decide if the hug is something that’s going to happen, Steve grabs him and pulls him into one, and it’s _glorious_. Steve’s arms are around his shoulders, and his firm chest is against his, and even though he smells mostly of sweat, it’s still one of the best hugs Bucky’s ever had. 

Somehow Steve makes him feel safe, and cared for, and wanted. It’s unexpected, and overwhelming, and more than just a little bit wonderful. He tells himself it’s just gratitude. He’s just thankful, that’s all. And can they stay here by the door all night? 

“I’m just glad Zeus is going to be alright. I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Steve says, and withdraws all too soon. 

Knowing he probably has a goofy smile on his face but not caring, Bucky opens his door to let him out. “See you tomorrow.” 

He watches Steve’s retreating form for a second, then closes the door. _Tomorrow._ His smile grows wider.


	10. A Blowjob Is Not A Proper Thank-You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus begins his recovery, and Bucky gets a LOT of visitors.

Chapter Ten

As soon as Bucky closes his door, he beelines back to the couch and sits down next to Zeus, leaning over him and hugging his small form to his chest.

“Zeus,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” His dog, curled into a little ball, doesn’t move except to lift his head against Bucky’s chin and make a small whining sound. “I know you hurt,” he says, and kisses the top of his head again. “It’ll get better,” he soothes him and sits back up.

Zeus gives him one bleary-eyed look and drops his head, falling asleep immediately. Bucky answers worried texts from his mother and his sister, then gets five minutes to relax before there is a knock on his door. Zeus doesn’t even pick up his head this time when his master moves from his side to answer it. Thor and Clint stand in the hallway.

“Bucky!” Thor says immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Never mind him,” Clint jokes, pushing his way past both of them. “How’s the pupper?”

They all stride over to the couch and look down at Zeus, still slumbering quietly, a soft snore emanating from his location. The cast is just barely noticeable, sticking out from under his body, but the shaved spots with stitches are clearly visible. 

“Awwwwww!” Clint’s lower lip pokes out. “Poor baby!” 

“That looks awful,” Thor observes, resting his hands on the back of the couch and leaning over it. “How come he doesn’t have one of those cone thingies on his head? Don’t they always put on a cone thingy to teach them a lesson?”

Clint snorts. “The cone is to keep them from biting at their injuries, dumbass.” 

Bucky shakes his head and chuckles, while Thor rolls his eyes. “I know that, Clint, I was making a joke.”

“Well it wasn’t a very good one, was it,” Clint razzes, and pushes at Thor’s elbow to make it collapse. 

With the sudden lack of support, Thor’s shoulder drops like a stone. He falls over the back of the couch with an audible “oof,” coming dangerously close to disturbing the sleeping Zeus, then manages to push himself back up to standing. He gives Clint a shove, sending him shuffling back a few steps and laughing. The big blond then turns back to Bucky.

“So what’s the deal? Did you take the cone off so he could sleep?”

Shaking his head, Bucky explains why Zeus can’t wear the cone, then adds, “The vet said they’d have to board him for a couple of weeks if I couldn’t watch him during the day.”

Both men turn to look at him at that, with quizzical expressions on their faces. Thor is the first to speak.

“But…how can you take that much time off right now?”

“I can’t,” Bucky replies cryptically, rocking back on his heels.

“So who’s going to doggysit for you?” Clint asks. 

Bucky leans his hip against the couch and crosses his ankles. “Steve volunteered.”

“What?” Both men ask in unison, with lots of eyebrow movement. 

“Yep,” Bucky confirms, smiling broadly. “I think he felt sorry for me.”

“Well, you are pretty sorry,” Clint snickers, and Thor gapes at him in mock horror. “Clint, his dog was just attacked, for fuck’s sake.” 

Clint looks suitably abashed, but Bucky laughs it off. “It’s okay, really. Zeus will be fine, so it’s all good.”

“We’re glad he’s okay, man,” Clint tells him. “I’m kinda getting used to seeing the little guy around.”

“That’s right, we are glad,” Thor agrees. “And it’s great you don’t have to board. Steve will take good care of him for you.”

“Yeah, he said he could work from home without too much trouble, and didn’t mind having a furry friend for a while. Pretty nice of him.”

“Well, you know that Rogers, he’s a giver,” Clint quips, while Thor looks like he’s got some marbles rolling around in his brain case he’s not sure what to do with.

“I really need to find a way to thank him,” Bucky states thoughtfully, and Clint pipes up immediately.

“I can think of a few things…” 

He promptly receives a smack across the stomach, courtesy of Thor’s hand. “He doesn’t want _your_ ideas,” the talller man interjects, and ignores Clint’s wide smile to face Bucky again. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“But I…” Bucky starts to say, and is cut off by Thor herding an unwilling Clint back towards the door.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” Thor throws out there to explain his rush, “And you and Zeus need some rest.” He’s behind Clint, shuffling him along as Clint tries to spin around, still smiling. 

He’s apparently given up on sharing his ideas, though, because when he successfully spins, all he says is, “Walking Dead tomorrow night, right?”

Bucky nods enthusiastically.

“I’ll come up here to make it easier on you, ‘k?” Clint adds, as he is hustled out the door by his companion.

They both wave good-bye and Thor pulls Bucky’s door shut behind him.

From inside his apartment, Bucky can hear Clint’s loud exclamation of “What?” and Thor’s answering, “Oh, shut up, Barton,” as they move away down the hallway. Bucky chuckles to himself as he moves away, wondering what it was Clint was going to say. 

Most likely, something rude. Maybe “blow jobs” or something like that, just to tease him. He shrugs to himself, plops down on the couch next to Zeus and strokes his back. Not that a blow job is a _bad_ idea. He’d like to get his lips around Steve’s dick again, but blow jobs are not a proper thank you. 

He glances up at the TV. Star Wars is already over, so he decides to retire to the bedroom for the night. Zeus hasn’t so much as blinked in the last ten minutes, and Bucky tries his best not to disturb him or touch the stitches as he picks him up. 

“Come on, buddy, time for bed,” he whispers, and Zeus rolls onto his back. “You little noodle,” Bucky teases softly. 

They make their way down the hall and he sets his dog down on the bed, whereupon Zeus immediately rolls fully onto his back, casted leg sticking up oddly. One side of his lip sags, showing one fang, and he makes a faint _whuff_. Bucky chuckles and pulls out his phone, snapping off a quick picture. He sends it to Steve, even though he may be in the shower or asleep already, with a message of thanks, because he can’t seem to stop himself from thanking him over and over. 

Next morning, he and Zeus have already been outside and had breakfast when he gets a text from Steve, asking to come over. He quickly types a “yes!”, then adds one more exclamation point, and hits the send button, eager for Steve to make an appearance. After sleeping off his drugs, Zeus had woken up a new dog, much more like his perky, happy self. He’d made several largely unsuccessful attempts to walk around, dragging his casted leg as if he didn’t want to put any weight on it yet. Mostly he’d take one or two awkward steps and give up, looking up at his master in a blatant plea for help. 

Bucky would laugh and gladly pick him up, carting him wherever he wanted to go. So when Steve asks, he absolutely wants him to see how well his dog is doing. A minute later, Steve appears at his door in shorts and a button down shirt, looking like a model for J. Crew. Zeus is insistent on immediate attention, issuing a sharp bark when he sees who it is, so Bucky steps to the side and lets Steve pass him.

“He looks so much better today!” Steve says brightly, and Bucky smiles back, agreeing with this assessment. 

Steve sits down next to him and pets him, resulting in the pooch falling over onto his side, and damn if that’s just one of the cutest things Bucky’s ever seen. Steve told him before, he never had pets growing up, so Bucky didn’t really peg him as an animal lover. And yet, the two seem to naturally have taken a liking to each other.

Edging closer, Bucky sits on the edge of the couch, close enough to breathe in Steve’s clean scent as his friend is preoccupied with rubbing the stuffing out of Zeus’s tummy. He also takes in his strong profile, the clean line of his jaw and the long eyelashes that curtain his eyes. His pulse starts to quicken, but he keeps it under control as they talk about the care Zeus will need. Bucky once again feels the compulsive need to thank him, but is cut off. 

“If you thank me one more time, I’m going to smack you upside the head,” Steve teases. “I don’t mind, honestly.” 

Bucky stays quiet, but on the inside wonders what kind of saint Steve is. How could he not mind picking up poop for a dog that isn’t even his? Bucky doesn’t want to pick up anyone else’s poop. He doesn’t really even want to pick up after Zeus, but there you go. So Steve? He’s remarkable. Bucky’s chest gets that tight feeling again and he feels a copious and rapidly expanding amount of _some_ emotion he’s decided to identify as appreciation. _Deep_ appreciation. 

With their plans set, Steve takes off and Bucky and Zeus chill on the couch for a while. Later on there is another knock on the door. _It’s like Grand Central Station in here_. This time it’s Peter, who comes bearing a small box of Milkbones. 

“For your buddy,” he announces cheerfully.

“Awww, thanks!” Bucky takes the box and shakes it to get the attention of his dog. From the couch, Zeus’s ears go up and his nose quivers as he tries to catch the scent of whatever’s in his master’s hands. Peter laughs and strides over to get a better look at him. 

“Poor thing!” he says, with a tip of his head to one side. “How many stitches does he have?”

“Twenty-four,” Bucky informs him, having counted last night. Zeus has turned himself around in order to give his full attention to the box. Bucky opens it and pulls one bone out, holding it down close so Zeus can take it. He’s not going to make him work hard for it, not in his current condition. 

Peter turns to him and grins. “Got our football tickets! I need the list of games you’re interested in going to, so we can start divvying them up.”

“Oh, sure,” Bucky replies, and angles himself toward the kitchen. He wrote them down somewhere… and actually he meant to ask Steve which games he wanted to see, too, because it would be fun to take in one or two with him. Striding into his kitchen, his eyes cast around for the notepad he wrote on. 

From the living room, Peter calls out, “What happened to the dog who attacked you?”

“No idea,” Bucky tosses back, eyes still moving. He just had it the other day… “He ran off, the fucker.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peter’s light brown head shaking. 

“Just some stray then?”

“Yeah, maybe…” Bucky agrees absentmindedly.

“So I hear Steve is babysitting for you, is that right?”

“Yeah!” Bucky yells back, and knits his eyebrows together. “How’d you hear that already?” He spies the notepad, shaped like a Tardis, and grabs at it, then walks back to the living room and tears the top sheet off. 

“You know Clint gossips like an old woman.” Peter takes it from him and glances at it, looking down. “What the hell kind of paper is this?”

Bucky laughs. Apparently NOT a Doctor Who fan. Loser. And of course, Clint, because of course. “Speaking of Steve, though, do you know which games he wants?”

Peter looks up curiously. 

“I thought it would be fun to go to one together,” Bucky adds hastily, not sure why Peter’s gaze suddenly makes him feel like he’s being scrutinized for intent. 

Peter’s manner is relaxed, though, and he shrugs easily. “Piece of cake. Same games you want.” He folds the Tardis in half and sticks it into a pocket of his shorts, and Bucky’s eyebrows arch.

“All the same?”

“Yep.” Peter smiles. “I’ll let you guys know when I get it all sorted.” He glances at Zeus, just finishing crunching up his bone. “If you have to watch him all the time, I assume biking is out until the stitches are?” 

Bucky smooshes up his face in disappointment. “Yeah, ‘fraid so,” he returns, thinking ahead. They had plans to go next weekend, so that’s scrapped. Golf, too, which was a crying shame. No sexy instructor for the next couple of weeks. Still, it was a lot better than the alternative, and he’ll still get to see Steve at the end of every day. But they’ll both be wanting to have dinner then, so Steve won’t want him to dilly dally when he’s picking Zeus up. He’ll be hungry…

That’s when it strikes him. Steve might not be able to cook for himself if he’s trying to monitor Zeus at the same time. Yeah! That’s how he can make it up to him!

“Hey Peter,” he quizzes him before he hits the door. “Does Steve have any food allergies you know of?”

“What?” Peter looks confused at the sudden change of subject. 

“You guys have eaten out at restaurants, right? Is he picky about what he eats?”

“Oh. No, not at all,” Peter informs him. “He’s usually up for anything.” He eyes Bucky calculatingly, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You planning a date night?” His lips curve more, into a cagey grin. 

“Fuck off,” Bucky grouses, and Peter gives him a slap on the back. 

“Couldn’t resist.” He makes his way back to the front door. “Hope your doggo feels better soon, dude.”

“Thanks for the snacks!”

“No problem,” Peter says brightly, as Bucky lets him out. 

So Steve wants the same games he does? What a coincidence! Should be easy to get a couple together then. Awesome. After this visit, the rest of their day passes fairly quietly. His sister stops by and positively fawns over Zeus. She’s so worried about him, she doesn’t even think to quiz Bucky about Steve at all, and he pointedly does not bring up the subject. Zeus makes a few sneaky attempts to chew at his stitches, but he always stops when Bucky admonishes him. Clint does come up that night for The Walking Dead, and as they park themselves on the couch to take in the show, he asks how Zeus is doing. 

“Pretty well, all things considered,” Bucky answers, and gives his dog a pat on the head. 

“Steve is really looking forward to dog-sitting,” Clint claims, and when he responds, Bucky’s voice is incredulous. 

“He is?”

“Oh, yeah,” Clint insists, stroking his chin. “Under that dickhead exterior, he’s really a marshmallow.”

Bucky snorts dryly. Right, Steve is such a huge asshole. Clint’s comment jogs his memory, though, and reminds him of what he said last night. 

“Hey, if you were _serious_ and not planning on being a dick, you wanna tell me what your ideas were to help me re-pay Steve?” 

Clint smirks and shakes his head. “I was gonna be a dick.” He nods slowly. “But you’ll come up with something.”

Grinning smugly, Bucky sits back on the couch. “Already did.”

“That right?” Clint gives him a poke on the arm. “Does it involve the exchange of bodily fluids?”

Bucky huffs indignantly. “Jesus, Clint.”

The smirk hasn’t left Clint’s face. “That wasn’t a _no_.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky picks up the remote and turns the sound on the TV up. After Peter’s comment about a dinner date, he’s not about to give Clint any more ammo. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” is his only response.

Clint laughs. “But it’s so comfortable there.”

Bucky waves the remote in his direction. “Maybe you should worry about your own love life, or lack there-of.”

Clint pounces, eyes twinkling. “Oh, so Steve’s part of your love life now, is he?”

Feeling himself blush hotly, Bucky stutters back, “No…that’s not what I…he’s not!”

“Smooth, Barnes,” Clint sputters out, at the same time busting a gut laughing. 

Groaning heavily, Bucky crosses his arms in front of his chest. Why is he friends with Clint again?

\--

Monday morning. Go time. He has all of the necessary things ready: medicine, bandages, pooper scooper bags. After a moments more thought, he grabs one of the tennis balls Zeus loves to chomp on and stuffs that into the bag as well. The little canine has been a lot more active than Bucky expected him to be, so might as well give him a toy just in case. Zeus sits quietly but tracks Bucky’s movements from his spot on the couch.

“Now, you’re going to be okay with spending the day at Steve’s, right?” he says to him, slinging the bag over his arm. “You two get along pretty well, or I wouldn’t do this to you.”

Zeus cocks his head to the side, listening. 

“We have to, though, so I want you to be good while you’re there.” 

Bucky stoops and gingerly picks Zeus up. 

“And I’ll come get you at dinner time.” 

Zeus looks up at him and licks his chin, making him smile. 

“Yeah, I love you, too.”

They make the short trip down the hall, knock on Steve’s door and are admitted right away. Insisting upon some petting action, Zeus is wiggly enough to get Steve’s hand on him as they are taken to the extra bedroom. Steve is already showered and dressed for the day in jeans and a plaid, yellow and blue button down shirt. No one makes shirts look as sexy as Steve does. 

Bucky sets Zeus down on the spare bed and enlightens his neighbor on the supplies he brought. There is a hint of panic in Steve’s eyes when he hears about the ball, which Bucky is quick to squash. Once he assures him he’s not going to have to play endless hours of catch, Steve relaxes. And though Bucky is sure his baby will be well taken care of, he can’t help feeling a touch of anxiety before leaving. 

“You’re sure you can handle this, right?”

“Positive!” Steve sings, and his bubbly answer puts Bucky back at ease again. He says good bye to his dog, stands and tells Steve just one more time, “If you have any questions or need anything, text or call me. I’ll keep my phone handy.”

He’s vaguely aware he sounds like an overprotective dad. He’s just rounded the corner of the bedroom door when he remembers that he forgot something, so he pokes his head back into the room.

“And thanks, Steve.” He smiles, pleased he worked that in before the blond could stop him again. 

“Go to work!” Steve answers, laughing. “We’ll be fine.” 

Mentally Bucky crosses his fingers and sets off for work. He’s not ten paces outside of the door when he hears another one close behind him and a deep, mellow voice call out his name. 

“Hey, Sam!” Bucky turns and waits for him. They see each other frequently on the way out of the building, as they both tend to leave at around the same time in the morning. Sam pulls up even with him and Bucky falls into stride.

Sam takes a gulp of coffee from his travel mug and asks, “Package delivered?”

He gets a smile and a nod. “Yep.”

“Where’d you hide the nanny cam?” Sam teases. 

“Inside his tennis ball,” Bucky deadpans back, and they both chuckle as they traipse down the stairs.

“Seriously,” Sam says while stepping out the door first, “Don’t worry about it. Steve’s got this.”

It’s early morning, but the sun is already over the horizon. Sam reaches his car first and unlocks his door; Bucky is parked right next to him. 

“I know. But I can’t help worrying a _little_ bit,” Bucky replies as he rounds his car to the driver’s side.

Sam is leaning on his open car door. “He won’t mind if you text him a lot. It’s not like he’s doing any _real_ work anyway.”

He flashes a million dollar smile at Bucky as he laughs and pulls his own door open. 

“Later, Sam.”

Sam gives him a mock salute and ducks down into his car. Bucky follows suit and cranks over his engine. He wonders if he can get away with texting as soon as he gets to work.

\--

He manages to wait all the way up until lunch before messaging Steve to see how things are going. Considering he took his phone out of his pocket to see if there were any messages from his dog’s new temporary caregiver about a dozen times, he thinks this is a major accomplishment. In response to his text, he receives a picture of Steve’s legs, propped up on a coffee table, and Zeus flopped out all over him. Steve barely has enough room to hold his laptop on his lap. 

Bucky giggles, then looks around to see if anyone heard the rather unmasculine sound he just made. Fortunately, he’s alone, standing near his parked car. Well, at least it looks like Steve has things under control. At the end of the day, Bucky’s got his plan finalized. Stop for dinner takeout for the both of them. After that step, it’s all improvisation. As plans go, it’s pretty lame, but Bucky feels like he’s really good at flying by the seat of his pants. 

He’s going to be guessing at what Steve likes to eat, and what’s going to happen after he presents the food to him. Will Steve want to eat alone? Together? Bucky’s not going to invite himself to stay, so if Steve wants some alone time, he’s really okay with that. Only a smidge disappointed. Really. 

So when he arrives at Steve’s place with a large, white bag containing Chinese takeout and Steve asks him to put it down on the counter, he does so, no questions asked. Of course, then he needs to abandon the bag and go see his dog. That’s when Steve gets both containers of food out and places them side by side at the peninsula. Which is _fantastic_.

Honestly, Bucky would have been okay with tucking the bag under one arm and Zeus under the other, heading home and eating there alone, but this is _so much_ better. Steve asks what he wants to drink, making it clear he expects Bucky to stay, and the brunet does nothing to discourage this. 

It’s really a pleasure to eat dinner and have some companionship, especially _Steve’s_ companionship. He’s witty, and smart, and doesn’t just want to talk about sports or the weather or other superficial things. He _talks_ to Bucky about things that matter, about his past and his future and everything in between, in a way that Bucky hasn’t experienced much of lately. It’s like talking to his best friend Darcy, without the jewelry. 

And Steve _listens_ , too. He doesn’t just blather on about himself. He asks how Bucky feels about different things, and then actually _waits_ for a response. If Bucky didn’t know better, it would feel like a _date_. But thank goodness, he doesn’t have to worry about anything like that. Steve’s just a good conversationalist, and Bucky’s been starved for male friendship for so long, he’s drinking him in like a man who’s been trapped in the desert for too long. 

This goes on every night, and by the end of the week, it’s the part of his day Bucky looks forward to most. That, and the cute texts and pictures Steve sends periodically to keep him appraised of Zeus’s activity. He gets frequent close-up shots of Zeus’s black nose sticking into the camera while he’s sleeping or chewing on his ball, and lots of shots of Zeus gimping around in the courtyard. 

He even got one picture of Zeus lifting his good leg on one of the potted plants over on Clint’s patio, with the caption below, _Don’t tell Barton_. It’s adorable, and helps him to feel more connected with both Zeus and Steve…even though feeling connected to Steve wasn’t something he even realized he wanted. Now that it’s happened, though, he doesn’t want to think about how the loss of that closeness would feel. 

He also doesn’t want to think about what any of that means. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s been missing out on male friendship for so long, he doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. He does know that while he likes Clint and Thor and Peter and Sam, the time they spend together feels…different. More like friendship. Steve feels more like…more. 

When thoughts like that strike him, he tells himself to dial it back. He and Steve are just more compatible, that’s all. Yeah. More in common, so of course they gel together more easily. More one-on-one time just means it’s all the more likely that the two of them would be closest. Nothing weird or inappropriate about that. And if that feeling of closeness means he can’t wait to leave work and get over to Steve’s apartment, that’s normal, too. 

Before he knows it, the first work week has passed and it’s Friday night. He’s decided on pizza tonight, a nice, deep pie with enough meat on it to clog their arteries for the next decade. He’s eaten way too much by the time he pushes up from Steve’s couch and takes his dishes over to the sink to clean up. Steve follows him, but rather than allow Bucky to rinse off his dishes, Steve takes them out of his hands and discards them into the bottom of the sink.

“So I’ve been trying to think of a way to thank you for dinner every night this week,” Steve states, and the way his eyes roam, it definitely piques Bucky’s interest. Still, the polite boy his mother raised disputes the very idea that Steve needs to thank him, when obviously it’s the other way around. 

“You don’t have to…” he protests, and Steve cuts him off. 

“Shut up and let me thank you.”

_Well okay then, Mr. Bossypants, if you insist._ Steve is standing pretty close to him and is eyeing him intensely, making Bucky suspect he doesn’t have flowers or chocolates in mind. _Please be a blow job_.

“So, what’d you come up with?”

Steve pushes him back against the sink, curls one arm around his waist, and rubs the palm of his other hand right over the erection Bucky’s just starting to form.

“Just this.”

Hell yes. Then he remembers his own earlier proclamation—blow jobs aren’t a proper thank you. _Like hell they’re not._

“I like the way your mind works,” Bucky breathes, and zeroes in on Steve’s eyes. 

And that’s the end of all rational thought, at least on Bucky’s end. Steve’s blue eyes blaze with the same heat Bucky feels, and when he leans in to kiss him, it’s beyond heavenly. They trade short, hungry kisses that deepen and lengthen, and will fuel Bucky’s dreams for the foreseeable future. 

Then Steve drops to his knees, and one blow job later, Bucky thinks he might pass out. Steve let him fuck into his mouth till he wanted to scream out his name over and over. He hasn’t come that hard since…well, the last time they had sex, but that’s not the point. Steve knows how to work him up into a frenzy, that’s the point. So much so that it didn’t seem to matter that they were in the kitchen, or that they were naked on the floor together, pawing at each other like heathens.

Bucky’s never gotten down and dirty on someone’s tile floor before, but when Steve pushes him onto his back, he’s more than willing. He _wants_ it, every kiss, every stroke, every grind of Steve’s hips. He wants Steve to rock his world in ways no one ever has before, so bring it. 

And Steve rutting against him, covering him with his big body and coming all over his stomach? God, was that _hot_. He’d do it again in a heartbeat. Anything to see that face Steve makes when he orgasms. It’s beautiful, like a gift unto itself. But Steve can say he’s thanking Bucky if he really wants to. He's not going to be picky about classification. They’ve got a whole other week of dinners to go, as well. If he plays his cards right, maybe he can get Steve to thank him a couple more times before all is said and done. 

He’ll cross his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so no new sex this time but never fear, smut lovers, it's coming next chappie!


	11. Whatever You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week one of Zeus and Steve's dog-sitting adventure is over. In one way it's going really well, and in another way Bucky's not sure. But he talks to himself, and Clint, and Darcy about it. He avoids bringing anything up with the one person he should talk to the most--Steve.

Chapter Eleven

The weekend is a pretty quiet one for Bucky and Zeus. They do a lot of sitting on the couch, much more than Bucky is used to, but he doesn’t mind. Anything for his dog. With all of this downtime, he finds his thoughts straying frequently to one person. One wondrous, wonderful person he’s realizing more and more he can’t just keep his hands off of, he can’t keep his mind off of, either. Somehow Steve has wormed his way deep into Bucky’s life. Not just physically. It’s gone way past that point. 

He doesn’t just think about the sex anymore. He thinks about the cute way Steve’s lips pucker when he eats something sour. The way his insides jump whenever their eyes meet. The way he wants to curl up next to him and melt whenever they sit on the couch side by side. Clearly, stuff he _shouldn’t_ be thinking about. 

When he gets lost in Steve, he tries to bring himself back down to earth by just focusing on the sex. And at times that’s not hard to do, because cheese and rice, it’s _Steve_. Who wouldn’t think about the amazing ways they’ve been banging each other? He sure does, and that’s okay when he’s inside his apartment where it’s air-conditioned and cool.

Right now, however, he and Zeus are out in the courtyard in the mid-afternoon sun, and it’s bloody hot. Getting himself overheated with Steve lust out here is a pain in the ass. Currently, Zeus is moseying around like he’s going to be outside all day. He’s been busy as a little beaver figuring out he can either walk around on three legs and hold the fourth one up in the air, or clunk around on all four legs. Both ways are slow, but effective. 

He’s tethered to his owner with a leash, even though there’s no way he’s going to outrun him in this state, and completely ignores Bucky every time he gives a little tug on it. With a sigh of defeat, Bucky pulls his shirt over his head with one hand and takes it off, stuffing half of it into his pocket and letting the other half hang down uselessly. Again, he finds himself thinking about Steve, wondering what he’s doing right now and when he can see him again. 

It’s so freaking _hot_. Bucky takes the ponytail holder he had on his wrist off and wraps the leash around his arm instead, then reaches up with both hands and pulls his hair up into a messy bun. The sun beats down on them both, but the human present is the only one to care. Zeus has his nose buried in the grass, tail wagging, when Bucky hears Steve’s voice calling down to him. He looks up, hoping he’s not hallucinating about him now, too, and squints into the sun. Steve is up on his balcony, waving at him from two units down.

“Hey Steve!” he yells back, with a wave of his own. “Hot enough for ya?”

He could see Steve’s white teeth flash from a mile away. “I like things hot,” the blond shouts.

 _Yeah you do._ Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “So does Zeus, apparently.”

“He looks great!” Steve calls out, motioning to Bucky’s dog with his head. 

“Yeah!” Bucky agrees. “Getting better at moving around.” 

Steve waves, points inside and yells something about laundry, then disappears, the lucky bastard. That’s the most thrilling part of Bucky’s weekend. There’s only so much TV he can binge on before going stir crazy, and Zeus can’t go for real walks yet. Out of boredom he even gets down on the floor while his dog is napping and does push-ups and sit ups till he’s sweating and breathing hard. And even _that_ has a way of reminding him of his burly neighbor.

Sunday night brings Clint up again, and thank the maker, he’s packing beer. They’re getting comfy on the couch with a bag of Doritos and their beer when Clint asks, “How’s it going with Mr. Rogers?”

Bucky shrugs. “I dunno, good, I think,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

Clint mimics his shrug. “What does that mean? Did he somehow maim your dog while they were sitting on the couch together?”

Everything still in Bucky’s mouth gets swallowed down hard. “Oh…that. No,” he chokes out. Totally not what he thought Clint was asking. “The dog-sitting is going great.” 

Clint shakes the bag and pulls out some Doritos, flashing them around in his hand. “Then what were _you_ talking about?” he asks, using his interrogation voice. 

Bucky feels his cheeks redden. He’s been thinking so much about Steve as a person, and his ill-defined relationship with him even more specifically, that he assumed Clint was asking about that aspect. 

“Nothing,” he replies lamely, but Clint is hardly fooled. 

“You thought I was asking about _you_ and Mr. Rogers, huh?” He taps his beer on Bucky’s knee. “That’s why you were so wishy washy? What’s wrong, you aren’t getting along anymore?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Just the opposite, more like.”

“Ohhhhh?” Clint’s eyes light up and he scooches closer to Bucky by a hair. “Do tell.” 

Bucky scooches two hairs away. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re still just friends…only…” he trails off uncertainly. 

Only what? What did he say that for? Doesn’t he want it to be only friends? Hasn’t he been insisting to Darcy and Becca that it’s only friends, and nothing more? _Nothing more_. Somehow that thought now elicits a distinct feeling of…disappointment. But it was his own fucking idea. He and Steve both agreed to it. So what’s his problem?

“Only what?” Clint echoes his thought.

Bucky chews on his lip and takes a sip of beer, stalling. “There’s something about him,” he starts tentatively. “The way he looks at me when he says my name. The way a nice sunset makes him smile. I like it…more than I should.” He looks sideways at his companion. “That probably sounded really sappy.”

Clint sniffles loudly and sets his beer down on the coffee table. “It’s beautiful, man.” He pretends to wipe his eyes with his shirt. “I think you made me cry.”

Bucky grins and shakes his head. “Go fuck yourself, Barton. Why do I even talk to you?”

Clint smiles back broadly, splaying one of his hands across his own chest. “Because I’m _ME_.”

Bucky grumbles, “That should be a deterrent,” and grabs more Doritos while Clint laughs and then poses a new question. 

“Why do you think you like it more than you should?”

Groaning, Bucky rolls his head back against the couch. “I don’t know.” 

“Lame,” Clint razzes, but Bucky escapes more conversation when the TV show starts. He ponders it in the back of his mind, though. Why _does_ he think that? Because Steve is not a relationship guy and never has been? That must be it. Not because Bucky won’t allow himself to feel or want more. Not because he’s scared of what that could mean. ‘Course not. 

All night he tries and fails to avoid thinking about Clint’s question. Deep down where he keeps all the things he wants to suppress, he maybe probably knows the answer… he just doesn’t like it. In the end, he decides _whatever_ his own feelings are, he can’t ask Steve for more than what they have now. It wouldn’t be fair. He can’t ask, so there’s no point delving deeper into his own desires. 

That eases his anxiety, and makes him feel more secure. Steve only wants friendship; the limit, though constraining, helps Bucky stop himself from mentally exploring even the possibility of wanting more. Because that leads to all sorts of negative emotions and memories. Roads he doesn’t want to travel down a second time. Being friends is safe. Easy. Problem solved.

\-- 

Monday morning means Darcy is back at work after her visit to her sister out of state. He hadn’t told her about Zeus while she was gone, figuring there was nothing she could do anyway, so why make her worry? She’s a little put off by this at first, but warms to him once he finishes updating her on Zeus and starts talking about Steve instead: how he volunteered, how he’s been helping out, how cute he looked with Zeus sitting on his lap. Especially how cute he looked with Zeus on his lap. 

“That was so lucky Steve was in the park with you when it happened,” she states, sitting on the corner of his desk and swinging her leg back and forth. 

“Yeah. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him,” Bucky replies. “He’s been great this whole week.” He smiles, thinking about their time together, and that warm honey feeling spreads through his chest. Once he gets going talking about Steve it’s hard to hold back, but he feels like admitting he enjoyed the first week is okay; he can still remain safe behind his self-imposed barrier. 

“He’s a good dog-sitter?”

“That too, but…” Bucky shakes his head and looks up at her. 

“But what?” she pries gently.

“We’ve spent some time together… I like being around him. I like the way he makes me feel.”

Darcy leans in over the desk, one hand planted on it firmly. “Tell me more.”

Bucky is silent a moment, wrangling with his thoughts and whether or not he can or should verbalize them further. The draw of being able to share his exuberance wins out, and he smiles again. “Whenever we’re together I just feel…happy. Like this is where I was always meant to be. It’s a nice feeling, for once.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Darcy gushes, and the look on her face makes him feel even lighter. She goes on by adding, “You don’t know how happy that makes me to hear you say that.”

“Yeah?” It feels good to confess a little, but he has to be realistic, and keep her in line as well. Darcy lives for happy endings and all that romantic shit. She’s liable to go off the deep end if he doesn’t reel her back in. “Me too,” he says. “We’ve gotten to be much better friends in the last several days.”

Darcy’s face falls. “Better friends, huh?” Then she purses her red lips and lifts her eyebrows. “You sure it’s just friends, Bucky bear?”

“It’s not…I can’t go there with him, Darce,” he warns, but his words hold no anger, more like resignation.

“Can’t or won’t?” She sighs as he remains silent, examining him with her watchful eyes. “I just want you to be honest with yourself,” she says mildly. 

He shakes his head impatiently. “Friends is all he wants, even if I did want more than that. We’re friends, and the sex is just a bonus. ”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Seriously,” he insists, feeling defensive now. He pushes back and stands up from his chair. “And stop telling my sister otherwise!”

She rolls her eyes at him like he’s being unreasonable, but agrees. “Yes, yes, alright. You think Steve would mind if I ran over there at lunchtime to see your baby?”

He grins. Darcy really is awesome. “No, I don’t think he would mind.”

\--

Later that day, Bucky is out at a work site when he receives a text from her, his phone vibrating from his back pocket. Always on the lookout for important messages from Steve, he pulls out his phone and stares at the screen. 

_Went over to see Zeus. He looks good. So does Steve._ A winking smiley face follows.

Mentally he rolls his eyes, but agrees. Steve _does_ look good. When it’s time to pick Zeus up, Bucky heads over there loaded down with Mexican food from that place Sam told him Steve fawns over. As usual, Steve lets him in and Bucky immediately walks over to the peninsula counter to set down dinner, then goes over to see Zeus on the couch. Only this time, there are new toys all over the furniture with him—three different kinds of balls and a Nylabone. 

Also new is the chewed-up, spit-laden squirrel that lays on a nearby table. Bucky thinks he can guess why the squirrel is out of reach on the table and not with his dog. He’s not as sure how the toys got there in the first place. Darcy? She didn’t mention bringing presents for Zeus, though he wouldn’t put it past her. But she also knows what kinds of toys Bucky buys, and which ones he steers clear of. She wouldn’t do that to Steve.

That leaves Steve himself. Why would he bother to buy toys for a dog that doesn’t even belong to him? He could have asked Bucky to bring over more from their current stash, which is pretty extensive. There’s only one answer he can think of. Steve is the sweetest fucking person on the planet. 

A slow smile blooms on Bucky’s face. “Steve, did you buy my dog new toys?”

Steve actually _blushes_ , because he’s that goddamn adorable, and admits that he did. He also admits that the squirrel, which Bucky suspects is made of pure evil, does in fact have a squeaker in it. Now, Bucky has been in the room with Zeus when he’s gotten his mouth on a squeak toy, and it’s not fun. It’s torture. 

There’s nothing worse than a dog who relentlessly, joyously squeaks a toy for hours on end. Either you take the toy away and feel badly that you deprived your pet, or you put up with a noise that quite frankly should be on the list of documented instruments of torture. He found that out the hard way, and it looks like Steve did, too. 

“How long?” he asks, and the look of despair in Steve’s eyes when he answers is priceless. 

“Two hours.”

 _Two hours!_ Steve lived in Squeaky Hell for two hours before taking that God-awful toy away? He can’t believe it. He holds his belly, his peals of laughter ringing out, and Steve even laughs at himself a little, too. Poor guy. Bucky claps him on the back as he shares the fact that he only buys tennis balls, and can’t help feeling a little bit in awe of him. Steve just went way above and beyond. Every day he manages to surprise Bucky with his heart and his giving nature. Where did a guy like Steve even _come_ from?

It makes it even harder to think of him as just a friend when he does shit like this, the prick. Bucky thinks back to Darcy’s words. _You sure it’s just friends?_

Yes. _No._ YES. FRIENDS. He forces his gut (and whatever else may be influencing things) to conform to his brain’s will. They’re friends because he says they are, damnit, and that’s the end of that.

\--

On Wednesday that week, he takes Zeus in for a quick check at the veterinary clinic, and his vet pronounces the stitches ready to come out on Saturday. That means Friday night is his and Steve’s last hurrah as far as sharing dinner goes. Bucky is disappointed to realize this, and then disappointed again when he remembers his parents are expecting to see him Friday evening, so he won’t have time for any special thanking activity before leaving Steve’s place. And Steve is attending some wedding and reception on Saturday night, so he’ll be busy then. Damn, how could he have been so short-sighted? 

He does enjoy dinner, and they both make themselves pigs over barbequed ribs and coleslaw. And he only stares at Steve while he’s licking sauce off his fingers eight times. Give or take a couple. Steve doesn’t seem to be aware of the eroticism of it, but Bucky sure is, and oh boy is his nether region. Those lips, sliding over those fingers, holy _shit_. It’s all over too soon, though, despite him dragging his feet by thanking Steve frequently and repeatedly throughout the meal for taking such good care of his dog. 

In the end they part for the evening without any extracurricular activity, and Bucky can’t even content himself with the knowledge that he can let Steve go to town guarding him the next morning at basketball, because he and Zeus will be at the veterinary clinic. Geez, does life suck sometimes. 

On the plus side, the next morning Zeus gets his stitches removed and looks to be healing up well. The cast has to stay on, but at least he’s getting better at gimping around with it. On the minus side, Bucky is preoccupied with thoughts of Steve all morning, after having some pretty X-rated dreams about him the night before. 

In a hurry to get to the vet’s office, he didn’t indulge himself when he woke up with a huge stiffy, aside from a random thought about how much better waking up would be if Steve was actually in his bed with him. It struck him suddenly while he was dressing that they’ve mostly been at Steve’s place, and he’s never actually had the opportunity yet to wake up with his bed smelling like Steve.

Later on, when he’s in the shower after lunch, with visions of blue eyes and thick, shapely muscles swimming in his head, he does indulge himself. After all, he’s only human. He’s been waiting all goddamn week for some action, longing to feel Steve inside him again. Longing for those lips to be on him instead of being wasted on barbeque sauce clean-up duty. He’s leaning against the shower wall, forearm on the wall in front of him, eyes closed, when his free hand finds its way down between his legs. He gives himself a quick swipe up the length of his cock, but…it’s not quite what he wants. 

What he really wants, only Steve can give him. Until then, he’s got to make due with his own fingers. He bites at his lower lip and imagines the blond is in the shower with him. Imagines Steve is behind him, pressed up close, that hard body next to his. Bucky’s fingers shift their position until his fingertip teases over his own hole. A rush of air escapes his parted lips and a low groan accompanies it. He probably shouldn’t do this, but what the hell. 

“Steve,” he breathes.

The word comes out a whisper, hot water streaming down over his face and chest. _Steve Steve Steve._ His finger moves in slow circles, rubbing gently over that sensitive skin until another, deeper moan follows the first and he gives in entirely. He grabs at the tube of lube still sitting on the shower’s shelf and slicks up his fingers, then eases one inside himself. 

Another moan. More visions of Steve—them kissing, them lying in Steve’s bed, them with their hands all over each other. He works in a second finger, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm. The image of Steve above him, thrusting in and out of him, plays on heady repeat. His fingers move faster, giving him just a little taste of what he desires, deep as he can go. Fuck, it’s not enough yet. 

A third finger gets added into the mix and his hips start to move as well. That’s better. Thicker, not the same but closer to what Steve feels like. In his mind, his lover is pushing into him, sliding in and out hotly, and he sways with it, picturing Steve’s face as he fucks himself on his own fingers. His cock is completely hard now, standing up and weeping at the tip, and he hasn’t really even touched it yet. 

The pleasure is there, though, the tingling, lush heat inside that keeps building. The more he rocks his hips, the more he imagines Steve slamming into him, the hotter it’s getting in there. Blindly he reaches with his free hand for the faucet head, turning down the temperature of the water. His body is producing plenty of heat on its own. 

“Oh. _Steve_ ,” he moans. _Yes._ His fingers plunge in faster, harder, his channel soft and pressing around his fingers tightly. He’s thrusting in and out, pushing back against his own hand, and it’s so fucking good. Faster. Deeper. Oh God, yes. His cock, raging hard, begs for some attention of its own, so he withdraws his fingers and reaches forward again. He wraps his hand around the base of his shaft, but all it takes is two good pumps and the thought of Steve’s lips around the head of his cock, and he’s shooting hard, all over the wall. 

“Fuck!” Leisurely he continues his long strokes, until he’s emptied himself and the hardened flesh under his hand starts to soften. His chest is heaving so he remains still, letting the coolness of the water bring him back down. 

What a great shower. What a great day! Of course, getting off in the shower while thinking about Steve does nothing to stop him from thinking _more_ about him afterwards. So when he receives a text from the man himself, asking to come over and see Zeus now that his stitches are gone, he jumps at the chance. 

He expects Steve to look gorgeous when he turns up at his door. That part is obvious. What takes him completely by surprise is his own reaction to the sight of him, in a dark grey suit, looking so off the chart, crazy sexy that he can hardly breathe. 

He’s freshly shaved. Every blond strand of hair is in place. The suit is tailored to fit him _perfectly_ , showcasing not just his broad chest and narrow waist, but the girth of his thighs and biceps as well. He lets his eyes work their way down to the floor and slowly back up to Steve’s angelic face. Steve looks back innocently, pretending like he doesn’t know what this is doing to Bucky. 

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Hell yeah I am! Get in here!”

He grabs at his arm and yanks him inside unceremoniously, then pushes him back against the door. “Look at you, all dolled up.” He slides his hands up and over Steve’s chest. He’s got a vest on underneath his suit jacket, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing Bucky’s ever seen. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s fingering open that line of buttons.

“You are so fucking sexy in this suit,” he hears himself murmur, but all his attention is on Steve, looking so much like a present waiting to be unwrapped. When the last of the buttons pops free, at once his hands move up and over those firm pecs, with only the thin material of Steve’s shirt between them. 

“Bucky,” Steve groans out, and his warm hands are around Bucky’s waist, holding him close. It’s not even a question that they’re going to kiss. He presses his mouth to Steve’s, just a hint of tongue involved, slow and heated, then explores downward with one hand, down the front of Steve’s shirt and pants to find the bulge there that will match his own. 

“What?” he asks, equally innocently. Two can play at that game. His fingers caress that hard outline, surrounding it, pushing against it. 

Steve’s eyes are like blue diamonds, glinting in the sunlight. “What if I have to leave for the wedding right now?”

 _Then you’re going to be really fucking late._ “Do you?” he asks, praying for some good luck to favor him. 

“No.” 

Steve is smiling, the bastard, like he can’t feel Bucky’s heart is about to beat right out of his chest against him, but it’s the most beautiful word he’s heard all week. 

“How much time?” Bucky inquires hurriedly, and he knows Steve is into it as much as he is when he rubs his hand over that erection and feels him harden and shift responsively.

“About twenty minutes.” 

“Excellent.” 

Steve sounds a bit breathless, a state Bucky wants to heighten. He already knows exactly what he wants but decides to give him two options, in case Steve has some ideas, too. And while he’s really hoping he’s about to get well and truly fucked, he’d be okay with his first offer of dropping and giving his neighbor a blow job to end all blow jobs, too. Either way he really wins, but when Steve whimpers and his cock telegraphs its approval of option two, Bucky’s arousal level jumps by five hundred percent. 

“Well then, option two it is.”

He doesn’t know where the idea of Steve bending him over his couch came from, but all of a sudden it seems like the best idea ever. Him fingering himself open earlier in the shower? Turns out that also was a great idea. Steve looks like he agrees—his mouth is hanging open and his eyes just glassed over with lust. In fact, the great ideas are hitting Bucky right and left today. He suggests Steve come back later tonight so they can see each other wet and naked, and Steve can hardly form words in response. Instead his dick does the talking, and it’s saying _yes_. 

_Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun._

\--

It’s fun. It’s more than fun, it’s a delirious, couch-sliding-across-the-floor, orgasm-inducing fantastic time, and he hates to see Steve go. But he comes back later in the night, just like he promised he would. Thank goodness he didn’t get tanked at the wedding reception. Steve smells very faintly of alcohol and something fruity when he arrives, but he’s completely lucid, and completely willing. 

Perfect, because Bucky’s got ideas for that hot body, and they strip each other in record time, kissing sloppily but enthusiastically. Clothes get dropped everywhere. Even a cold-nosed interruption from a curious Zeus can’t derail his plans. In short order he’s got Steve in his shower with him for round two. And he’s got no intention of letting him leave afterward, even after his lover fucks him senseless against his shower wall. Oh no. It’s time he got Steve into his own bed, and not just for cuddles. He’s going to give Steve what he wants this time. _Whatever_ he wants. 

Right now.


	12. Hold Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time is on. And off. Both boys are unhappy, and completely oblivious to the fact that the other is unhappy. It's complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing something on Tumblr about how much authors appreciate readers who give love to WIP's, I want to heartily concur with that sentiment! I write because I love to write, but really, people reading and commenting while you are working on a story is just amazing and wonderful. Seriously. So thank you to all you readers out there!

Chapter Twelve

Surreptitiously Bucky watches Steve out of the corner of his eye while they both dry off after their shower together. Sort of surreptitiously, anyway. Steve is watching him, too, so really they’re just both checking each other out, but Bucky just can’t help himself. Every part of the man beside him is built to please, from head to toe. All of that smooth skin, acres of it, playing over those strong muscles. If it’s even possible to have sexy knee joints, then Steve has them. Bucky’s eyes drift up and down over that attractive silhouette as he dries himself off and deposits his towel on the edge of the sink. 

He takes Steve’s towel as well and ditches it on top of his, before grabbing his hand and bringing him out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Night’s not over. No sooner have they gotten in there, though, when they are interrupted unexpectedly. Not by a buzzing or ringing cell phone, or Clint at the door in his PJ shorts, wanting Bucky to try the raspberry jam on an English muffin he’s enjoying for his midnight snack (it happened). Instead it’s Zeus, who has somehow managed to jump up onto the bed and is waiting for them, giving them a little whine in greeting. Bucky feels his jaw drop. _Well, you told him to go lie down._

“How’d he get up there?” 

He can hear the surprise in Steve’s voice, and it matches his own. He’s been picking his dog up every time he needs to get onto the couch or the bed, not realizing he could do for himself. 

“I don’t know. Guess he figured out a way to jump using three legs,” he answers him, then speaks to his pooch. “Zeus, you can lie down. It’s okay.”

So, not exactly the suave, seductive entry to his boudoir he had planned on, and he has a few misgivings when Zeus curls up on the end of the bed. Hmm. Is it weird to get it on with your dog on your bed with you? He’s never encountered this problem before. But the bed _is_ king sized, after all. They’d hardly even know he was there, right? His eyes soften as he watches Zeus plop down in what was clearly his napping spot. He just doesn’t have the heart to move him, when he looks so cozy and comfortable in his blanket nest. Is Steve going to think this is super strange? Only one way to find out. 

He turns back to gauge his reaction. “Is that going to bother you?” 

To his profound relief, Steve doesn’t seem fazed at all. He even makes a joke about Zeus sniffing butts, which makes Bucky giggle in part because it’s a funny image, and in part in relaxation, knowing that of course, Steve is cool with it. He’s sort of sure Zeus will sleep and not pester them. Kinda positive. At any rate, he’s not letting this hiccup get in the way of more sexy time. As long as everybody else in the room is fine with it, he’s fine. He steps in closer, slides his hands around Steve’s chiseled jawline and kisses him, long and slow.

God, does he taste fantastic. And feel fantastic. Leisurely he lets his fingertips trace over Steve’s cheeks, his neck, then slip down his broad shoulders and arms to squeeze lightly at his biceps. His skin has that soft, freshly showered feel to it, just begging to be touched. More than that, he wants to keep going, keep touching, keep feeling, just because he _can_. Just because it feels like the most natural thing he’s ever done in his life, being with Steve. He can’t think of anywhere else he’d want to be, or anyone else he’d rather be with. And that feels good. 

It feels good when Steve starts doing a bit of exploring himself, too, fondling Bucky’s nipples with dexterous fingertips. The pads of his thumbs tease over them, rubbing until Bucky moans deeply, right into Steve’s mouth. The sound is swallowed up by him as they still kiss, mouths locked together, but he’s pretty sure Steve detected it because his magic fingers keep going, circling and rolling over his sensitive flesh until hard nubs form. 

Bucky would be okay with another hour of kissing and fondling before things progress any further, really he would, but the mouth that suddenly pulls away from his and latches onto one of those little nubs says otherwise. He is distantly aware of the high squeak that comes out of his mouth as Steve licks at him and takes him into his mouth, suckling him gently. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, hands in Steve’s hair, arching slightly into the warm, wet contact. Fuck, does Steve know what to do with his mouth to make him crazy. It’s uncanny. 

With his cock starting to rise up again, highly interested in the immediate proceedings, Bucky makes the executive decision that they need to be on the bed. Like, now. And more specifically, he needs to feel Steve on top of him, pressing all of his considerable yet perfectly proportioned mass onto him. Blindly he takes hold of Steve’s face, pulls him back up, and hopes he doesn’t sound too demanding when he says to him, “Get on top of me.”

Yeah, that sounded demanding. He adds on an “I like you on top of me” blanket statement to make up for it, staring at Steve’s outline in the dim light of the room, then hurriedly drags him to the bed and yanks the covers down. Thankfully, Steve’s apparently not picky about his dictatorial tone for now, because he obligingly climbs on top of him at the head of the bed without any complaint. 

Sinking into him and looking right into his eyes, Steve rubs their chests (and other parts) together, hot skin pressed to hot skin. His lips part and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, as if this could be as remotely good for him as it is for Bucky (not possible). Slowly he rocks his body over Bucky’s and grinds against him before ducking his head down to attack Bucky’s nipple again. Oh God, it’s just as good lying down; Bucky can hardly feel the bed underneath him. It’s all wet tongue and luscious lips, licking at him, kissing him, tasting him. _Steve_. His scent surrounds Bucky, enveloping him in that delightful sensation.

Steve’s knees are on the bed, between Bucky’s legs, which means there’s unwanted space between their cocks. At the same time he holds Steve’s head to him with his hands, Bucky hooks his leg over his back and pulls him down flat to him so that the extra space disappears. Ahhh, much better. He whines softly in delight; Steve is hard again, too, his cock pressed against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky arches up, pushing into Steve’s mouth, wanting more, wanting it all. Steve rubs his cock against his leg, hard and thick and wet, sucks at his nipple one more time, then lifts himself back up toward the head of the bed, crushing his mouth to Bucky’s again.

His kiss is brutal, hard and deep, and their shafts are now lined up perfectly. When Steve starts thrusting against him, it’s all Bucky can do not to orgasm then and there. Steve ruts against him, leaving a wet trail from the tip of his cock across Bucky’s skin. Bucky grabs at his ass while they kiss, pressing Steve down even more, keeping their lengths close, so goddamn close he just wants to stay that way all night. He can’t let Steve get away…his legs find their way up, clasping around the backs of Steve’s thighs to keep him there, digging in and helping drive his body up and down over his own, speeding up the rhythm his partner has already set. 

How long can they go before one of them erupts and comes all over the other? Steve throws his head back and groans needily, but doesn’t stop. Just the opposite—the moaning grows louder and the humping like rabbits grows all the more forceful. They’re both breathing hard and starting to overheat when Steve grinds out a low, “Oh my God…Bucky!” 

His voice is pure passion, and it sends Bucky into a frenzy. Not so much that he loses it, but his cock is like red hot steel, fresh from the fire. He needs to get inside Steve, and soon. They’ve got to _move_. Despite Steve’s size and weight, Bucky throws him off to the side and rolls with him so they’re facing each other on the bed. Steve’s solid body lands with a thud, and he immediately reaches for the brunet, hands sliding across his skin, grabbing and clutching at him. 

“Jesus, I want you,” Bucky groans, and pulls Steve’s face to his for another wanton kiss. 

Reaching down with his hand, Steve palms Bucky’s massive erection, stroking him and then touching down lower, around his balls. Fuck, _yes_. Bucky keens softly into his mouth. His cock is going to explode in a hot minute. The hand on his balls moves back up to his hip, rocking him in toward Steve’s body, and Bucky gets the clue. He ruts against the blond, but makes a conscious effort to slow himself down and not let the moment pass too soon. He doesn’t want to come like a horny teenager, getting off for the first time.

No, that wouldn’t do. He’s achingly hard, but forces himself to shift his hips more slowly, dragging his cock up and down against Steve’s body, groaning out loud before leaning in and kissing his mouth, his jaw, his neck, everywhere he can reach. Steve’s skin is hot like his is, his breaths coming in shuddering starts and stops, his hands grasping at Bucky’s ass while he gyrates against him. 

There’s only one way this could get better. Bucky’s fingers slide down into the cleft between Steve’s firm cheeks and rub lightly over his entrance. His physical need to be inside his lover is overpowering. He crooks his middle finger just slightly, just enough to apply the tiniest bit of pressure at Steve’s most vulnerable spot. God, he wants in there so badly. Steve pushes back against him, telling him first silently, then out loud how much he wants it.

“Bucky…yes,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds as wrecked as Bucky feels. It catches slightly and Steve both moans and speaks at the same time. “Yes, Buck, _yes_!”

Hearing Steve say that particular combination of words in response to being fingered causes Bucky’s ultimate undoing, in the best way possible. 

“Face the other way,” he whispers, and goes for the lube, slicking up both hands as quickly and efficiently as he can. Two hands, because he’s going to need both for this; one is reserved for finger fucking Steve’s perfect ass, and the other is for making him come, all over his bed, all over his hand. He pushes in with one finger, into that tight, smooth heat, and at the same time curls the fingers of his other hand around Steve’s cock and starts jerking him off. 

Steve’s body jumps violently and he makes a sound of pure, animalistic pleasure that rips right through Bucky’s core and lights a fire in him that burns through him completely. He can’t waste much time on prep, so he inserts another finger and pushes as deeply into Steve’s body as he can, twisting his fingers and scissoring them masterfully. With his other hand he strokes Steve faster, hoping like hell he can get him to come before he penetrates him with his cock. 

But he’s _so fucking hard_ , they both are, and he doesn’t know how long Steve can hold out. His erection is enormous, filling Bucky’s hand as he rubs and massages it. He can practically feel the blood coursing through it. With one set of fingers embedded inside his lover and the other wrapped around his rock-hard shaft, stimulating him both ways, Bucky leans in and kisses the juncture of Steve’s neck and shoulder. 

“Come on baby, come for me,” he whispers encouragingly, adding more kisses after his words. 

Under his lips, he feels Steve’s body shudder as he breaks down and shoots his load. _Fuck, yeah._ He smiles against Steve’s skin and concentrates extra hard not to let himself come, not until he’s inside that hot body. It strikes him then, he’s so turned on not just because it’s _Steve_ who wants him. That’s only half of it. He’s so turned on because of the feeling it gives him to _take care_ of Steve. He likes that feeling. A whole lot. It gives him pause, thinking about just how much he likes it. Slows down his red hot libido. He takes his time pushing in, penetrating him in degrees, all the while thinking about how freaking awesome this moment is.

Steve is with him in his bed. Steve just orgasmed in his bed, by Bucky’s hand, and now Bucky is lucky enough to get to feel every part of him, to fuck into him with abandon. Gently he rocks his hips, savoring every single nanosecond. His hand finds its way to Steve’s hip, caressing it, holding it, pulling himself in further by it. His strokes are deep, and deeply rewarding. Steve’s channel is so hot, so soft, squeezing around his shaft so nicely. Over and over, he thrusts himself deep inside with whispery moans of pleasure. Wanting even more contact, he kisses Steve’s ear, pressing his lips tenderly to it, whispering his name into it. 

Steve is silent but reaches back and cradles Bucky’s head in his hand, letting his fingers slip though his damp hair, holding him sweetly. The heat inside Bucky crescendos steadily, spilling from his core with a sudden fierceness that surprises him. He comes, buried inside Steve, cock throbbing and pulsing crazily. His hips jerk as his orgasm takes him and he cries out into the dark. _Yes yes yes._ This has to be the best night of his life. Everything feels perfect. If the world ended tonight, he’d be okay with that. As long as Steve is with him. They both relax their tired muscles, but don’t move from their spots. 

The euphoria takes a good long while to fade as they lie snuggled together, sharing one pillow. Steve pulls Bucky’s arm over him as they spoon and cool off. Their breathing slows to a regular pace, then an even slower, sleep-induced rhythm. Bucky drifts into blissful slumber, one thought and one thought only filling his brain. _Everything is perfect._

\--

Bucky wakes an hour later. Well, wake is maybe too strong a word. In a sleepy haze, he dimly realizes his A/C is blasting arctic air into the room and it’s cold, so he reaches down for the sheet at the bottom of the bed. His searching hand finds Steve’s leg instead, and that’s when he realizes, also dimly, that he’s still there, he hasn’t left, and has turned around so he’s now facing Bucky. His breathing is even and deep, and he doesn’t even stir when Bucky touches him. Bucky manages to pull the sheet up over both of them, and turns over so Steve now spoons him instead. 

He doesn’t want him to wake. Doesn’t want him to leave. Steve belongs here with him. Even in his own drowsy stupor, Bucky’s desire to be with him overrules everything. Sleepily he settles back and thinks about how much he loves the feeling of that solid, muscled body behind his. How much he loves the time he shares with Steve. How much he loves Steve. _I love you, Steve._ He’s barely conscious of his flow of thoughts, drifting back off into oblivion. _I love you._

Bucky doesn’t wake again till morning light is streaming into the room. He comes back to his senses slowly; he’s warm and toasty, with Steve right behind him. He pulls Steve’s arm forward, draping it over his own body. Perfect. His brainwaves zero in exactly where they left off the night before. The love of his life, tucked away with him. 

The love…

...of his…

Hold up. 

Bucky blinks once, now fully awake. The cold bite of fear grips him. He can’t. Do this. _Oh my God._ He’s in love with Steve. He _can’t_ be in love with Steve.

His heart hammers so loudly in his chest, it’s sure to wake everyone on the floor. He shoots straight upright on the bed. Will Steve see it in his eyes? Will he bolt from the room and never want to talk to him again? They’ve never spent the whole night together, but Steve has an excuse—he did consume some drinks last night. Bucky has no excuse. It’s inexcusable. He might be hyperventilating. Or having a panic attack. He’s got to get out of this room. He turns and looks at his companion, who is groggily looking back at him with what looks like confusion in his eyes. Bucky probably startled him half to death, popping up so fast.

“Steve! I’m sorry,” he says, trying to steady his voice. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep so hard.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to…did you need to go?”

“What? No…no, it’s fine,” Steve answers him, still looking confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay all night.”

Oh _God_ , Steve is _apologizing_ to him? He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t break their agreement by going and falling in fucking love with his friends-with-benefits partner. He shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he asserts curtly. Bucky is the one who should apologize, but that would mean admitting his wrongs in the first place. That thought makes him freeze in fear. He casts his eyes around the room, looking for an escape. 

Zeus is up and walking around the bed on his three good legs, which gives him a legit excuse to flee from the area, to clear his head and figure out what to do.

“I need to take Zeus out,” he announces. He wants to get out of there…and yet, he doesn’t want Steve to leave without talking to him again. He’s just got to figure out how to make this right, that’s all. “But will you wait for me?” he adds uncertainly, bringing his eyes into the general area of Steve’s face, if not directly in his eyes. 

“Of course I’ll wait for you,” Steve says plainly. His expression is odd, which makes Bucky worry that he’s seen right through him. He jumps up, stumbles to his dresser and yanks it open, fumbling around for anything that’s wearable. He throws on some clothes as fast as he can and picks up his dog. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and beats a hasty retreat to the door, grabbing his keys on the way out. Steve’s jacket lays on the floor by the door, just where Bucky tore it off of him the night before. He closes his eyes and steps over it. 

As Zeus cruises the perimeter of the courtyard, stomping around on his casted leg in the dewy grass, Bucky thinks. Or he tries to think, when he’s not busy panicking. What is he going to do? Steve doesn’t want him that way. The man admitted to him the longest relationship he _ever had_ was only a couple of months. This is supposed to be casual sex only. The problem is, he just can’t keep his hands off Steve. He can’t keep his _mind_ off Steve, either. He shivers a little in the cool morning air, standing there in shorts and a t-shirt. 

This wouldn’t even be an issue if only they weren’t so fucking compatible, both physically and emotionally. Steve is everything Bucky could want in a boyfriend, in a lover, in a companion. He likes the way he can make him laugh, the way he can turn him to jelly with just a kiss, the way being around him makes him feel like they were meant to be together. He doesn’t just like it. He loves it. He loves _Steve_. 

It’s dangerous. So dangerous. 

He doesn’t want to stop seeing Steve. He also doesn’t want to drive the man away, subconsciously thrusting unwanted feelings onto him. Because that’s how it will end, isn’t it? He won’t be able to control his emotions for long. He’s never been good at hiding things like that. How can he separate his physical and mental needs and desires? How can he continue their sexual relationship without falling harder and harder for him every single day? He can’t. And when Steve figures it out…he’ll run. He’ll run, and Bucky will be alone again…just like before. With a broken heart that may or may not heal a second time. He can’t imagine his life without Steve in it; his need for contact with him is already so powerful. But to continue sleeping with him, knowing Steve will never love him back…

_…Steve will never love him back._

The harsh truthfulness of it is like a slap in the face. His airway constricts painfully. It’s just like before. He’s in love with a man who doesn’t love him. Who will never love him. Is he really that unlucky? Or just that unlovable? Moisture threatens to gather in the corners of his eyes, and he blinks it back. How could he have let this happen a second time? He should have been more on guard. Steve, just by way of being his sweet, unassuming self, completely stripped him of his defenses, cut through them like a hot knife through butter, and he didn’t even realize it. He fell for him so easily, so thoroughly. He tips his head back to the lightening sky. Stupid. He’s so stupid.

His eyes closed, he stands there silently, berating himself for who knows how long while a sense of hopelessness takes root. _It’s over._ But then slowly it comes to him. It’s really _not_ just like the first time. Steve is nothing like his ex. Maybe Steve has no idea what’s really going on. He hasn’t treated Bucky badly. He’s not a bad person; he’s a good person, who just doesn’t like long term relationships. He never lied to Bucky, never led him on. He was perfectly honest and up front about it. It’s not his fault Bucky fell for him, lock, stock and barrel. He’s still the same awesome person he was before. There’s got to be a way to keep Steve in his life. 

So where does that leave him? He doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they already have. Steve is important. He _can’t_ lose him. But he can’t keep sleeping with him, either. That’s only going to end one way. He grinds his teeth together and runs one hand through his hair. He’s only got one option—tell Steve they shouldn’t continue having sex. 

No more touching. No more kissing. No more cuddling. He looks down at Zeus as the weight of this realization sinks in. Zeus steadily ignores him for an interesting tree trunk. He can’t do it. It will kill him. Already he feels like a black cloud has moved in and settled over him. He doesn’t want to do it. His eyes squeeze shut again. _I don’t want to do it._ He doesn’t see any other choice, though. _Can_ he do it? Steve is upstairs, waiting for him. What should he say? Even thinking about it puts a lump in his throat. He just has to keep calm, and not let Steve see the real reason. It probably won’t even be a big deal for him. It’s not like he hasn’t already gone through a bunch of other partners already. 

As he turns and marches Zeus back towards the door to the apartment, he steadfastly refuses to even _consider_ the possibility that Steve would start seeing someone else right away after Bucky ends their arrangement. That makes the knife in his heart feel like it’s slowly twisting, ravaging him from the inside out. There’s only so much punishment he can take in one day, and that kind of thinking would definitely require either the presence of a lot of booze, or a lot of ice cream. Neither of which he has right now. 

So it’s up they go, back to his apartment. As he lets himself in, he stoops and picks up Steve’s jacket from the floor. This was the last time he and Steve would strip each other naked. The last time he would feel Steve’s bare skin against his own. The last time he'd be able to look deeply into his eyes before they kissed. The sadness of it is overwhelming. He’s incredibly nervous when he enters the bedroom, but tries not to show it. 

He doesn’t recall crossing the room, but suddenly he’s sitting next to Steve, and he’s so close. _You’re too close_. Can Steve feel him shaking? He can barely remember what words come out of his mouth after he says them, but he knows he tells Steve they can’t do this anymore. He knows the knife twists in deeper. And he knows Steve understands, because he falls silent right away. He’s silent for so long, Bucky fears he’s offended him. Steve’s probably the one that always does the dumping, after all. This must feel very foreign to him.

Immediately, he rushes to ensure Steve understands one thing. They _will_ remain friends. They _have_ to. He couldn’t bear this otherwise. 

“Of course we’ll still be friends,” Steve reassures him in turn. His voice sounds a little off, but Bucky’s head is so messed up right now, he doesn’t even know what to make of that.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Bucky asks, just to be sure Steve’s not mad at him. 

Steve smiles. “Of course.”

Bucky looks down to hide his face, not sure he can control the emotion on it for much longer. There’s relief Steve’s not mad, but that’s only a tiny part of it. Mostly it’s devastation. Plain and simple. Steve doesn’t love him, never will, and now Bucky has to learn to live with that. 

He just doesn’t know how.


	13. A Long Way To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the fallout of breaking things off with Steve. Or doesn't deal with it, as the case may be.
> 
> warning: use of alcohol to drown one's sorrows. If that's upsetting to you the reader, skip the first portion of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took soooooo long, but it turned into a huge chapter compared to the rest, and there's not even any sex! Bucky's got issues, y'all. But the good part is, at least there's sex coming soon. :-)

Chapter Thirteen

The next forty-eight hours are probably the worst of Bucky’s life. Even worse than finding out the man he loved, the man he invested years of his life in a relationship with, was a first class douche bag. Worse than having to kick said douche bag out of his life. In that instance, he at least knew deep down that he would be better off in the long run, being rid of that garbage. Didn’t make it easier to handle at that time, but it was there in the back of his mind. He can’t say that now. Steve isn’t garbage, or a douche bag. Steve is a wonderful treasure, and he doesn’t _want_ their relationship to end, or change, or be anything short of what it was Saturday night. 

Saturday night. He and Steve were together, and in his blissful ignorance, he thought everything was perfect. It seems an eternity ago. Sunday morning, shortly after Steve left, Bucky started drinking. And didn’t stop. At the time it seemed a grand idea—drink until the pain was dulled, until it became manageable and bearable. Steve was no longer his lover, no longer his _anything_ , and he needed to come to terms with it, get it through his thick skull. 

Easier said than done. Because the whiskey didn’t make things easier, it just made him inconsolable. All day long he sat, alone and entombed in his own despair, throwing back enough booze to bring down a mammoth. Zeus kept him company, remaining at his side the whole day, sympathetically licking his hand or nudging him with his nose to elicit a few pets, knowing in that weird way animals _know_ that something was wrong. Absently Bucky would stroke his back or his chin, but all he really thought about was Steve. How much he already missed him. How utterly unfair life was, that he should now lose the tiny bit of happiness he had found. 

But it had to be done, didn’t it? To save the friendship, he had to kill the dream, had to put an end to any romantic thoughts he was having about his neighbor. Had to put an end to the best chance at a happy ending he probably would ever have. Because really, how many more times would he fall in love in one lifetime? How many more times would he find a man who measured up to Steve Rogers? _Zero_ , he thought, tossing back another mouthful, letting it burn his throat on the way down, letting it deaden his senses a little more. Steve Rogers is perfection. Unattainable, out of reach, perfection. 

He needs more booze. 

In retrospect, though, he should have known better than to turn to alcohol. Historically, getting lit up never made him a happy person. It just made him sad. _Morose_. And he already had enough of that going on. But you know what? He just didn’t give a shit. He _wanted_ to not give a shit, to be so blasted he would forget what he was upset about in the first place. 

Unfortunately (in his view anyway, maybe not his liver’s), he never reached that point. It was always there, the sense of loss and the pain, as constant a companion as Zeus was. It was there for his first swallow, and for his last. It was there before he fitfully fell asleep on the couch, and it was there when he woke. 

He wakes up with a start, sometime early in the evening, to a smart rap on his door. Freezing in place, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, he hopes to God it isn’t Steve coming back to check on him. He can’t let him see him like _this._

“Bucky, you in there? Open up, it’s me,” booms out a deep voice. 

Thor. Bucky initially stays silent, considering pretending he isn’t at home, when Zeus suddenly jumps up from the floor onto his stomach. His casted leg lands squarely on Bucky’s crotch, causing him to let out a loud “ooof!” that gives his position away. 

Thor knocks again. “You okay in there?”

Bucky groans as he rolls himself and Zeus off of the couch. With the second step he takes, not exactly headed in the direction of the door, but not _away_ from it either, he stubs his toe on the foot of the couch. “Sonofabitch!” he yells.

There is a grunt from the hallway and then Thor’s voice again. “Bucky?”

Fuck. Thor will stand there all day till he lets him in, so he decides he’d just better get it over with. For a brief moment he stretches his arms up over his head, then shuffles to the door. Quickly he looks down to make sure he’s decent, not even remembering if he showered earlier or put on pants. 

All is well in the pants department, so he yanks the door open and squints out into the hallway. Thor stands there alone, smiling until he sees what condition Bucky is in. The smile then melts away and turns into concern. Or horror. It’s open to interpretation. 

“What the hell?” Thor mutters, before stepping in and pulling the door shut for him. “What happened to you?” he demands. “You look like a train…” he pauses and sniffs loudly. “…a train filled with _whiskey_ hit you.” Before Bucky can formulate any kind of answer, Thor takes his arm, manhandles him back into the living room area and shoves him into a chair, taking a seat opposite him. 

“Nothing happened,” Bucky mumbles, knowing how completely inadequate this is as a response, and how Thor will never let it stand, but not being able to work up enough fucks to care. 

“Bullshit,” Thor says bluntly and then waits, sitting back with both arms outstretched on the back of the couch and one leg crossed at the knee. 

“I shaid, nothing.” Bucky slurs and tries to put an extra dose of sullenness into his voice, so as to be discouraging of any other questions. 

“And I said, bullshit,” Thor snaps back. “This isn’t like you, so tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky sits leaning to one side, posture as slumped and as crappy as it can be. He runs a hand through his long tresses, stopping when his fingers get caught in a mangled knot on the back of his head. Did he even comb it this morning? Whatever. He leaves the hair for now. 

“None of yer fucking bishness,” he spits out, glaring balefully at his unwanted visitor. 

Thor just shakes his head slowly. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know.” He reaches down to pet Zeus, who had carefully navigated the mound of pillows next to Thor to go over and see him. 

Bucky’s head lolls to one side a bit. Ha. Fucking Thor, with his caring fucking attitude. “I regret it already,” he confesses with a sneer. Still not going to talk about it, though. “Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

Thor’s eyebrows disappear. “If by _things_ , you mean get even more wasted, I’m afraid I’m going to have to intervene.” He leans forward and grabs the unopened bottle of whiskey Bucky had on stand-by from the coffee table. 

“HEY!” Bucky protests, but can’t even work up enough indignation to make a grab for it. He just sits and tries to force his numb face to form a scowl. Judging by the return look on Thor’s face, it’s not working. 

“I’ve got an idea. Let me call Steve,” Thor starts, tone soothing, but it’s exactly what Bucky _doesn’t_ want to hear.

“NO!” he shouts, and goes for the near-empty bottle still on the table in front of him. 

Thor’s reaction time, completely unaffected by alcohol consumption, is however much faster than Bucky’s. He snags the second bottle as well, hoarding them both on his lap. Asshole. 

“So,” Thor realizes and whispers softly. “Something happened with Steve?”

“Fuck off.”

With his eyes only, Bucky attempts to commit murder on the man sitting next to him. The man who dares to talk about Steve. The man who acts like the entire world just didn’t fall apart. The man who _steals his booze_. But eye daggers don’t work either, because Thor is still breathing and speaking words Bucky doesn’t want to hear.

“Bucky,” he starts, pleading gently. “You know I’ll find out sooner or later. Maybe it would help to get it out.”

“And maybe you should _fuck off_.” 

It’s not that hard to understand, is it? He doesn’t. Want. To. Talk.

“Or maybe I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Thor wisely decides, “when you’re not drunk.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “And a dick.” He stands and makes for the door, still holding Bucky’s bottles of liquid therapy, but Bucky lets him go. Whatever. Just get out, and leave him alone again.

“Later,” he says dismissively, and lets his head fall back on the chair, turned to watch his jerk of a friend depart.

There is the jingling sound of keys being picked up as Thor reaches the table next to the door. _Bucky’s_ keys. “I’ll return these tomorrow morning before work, just to be safe,” the abominably insufferable man promises, holding them up in one hand. The two bottles are cradled between his other arm and his body. 

“HEY!” Bucky yells angrily. Not that he was actually planning on going anywhere, but HEY. He’s not going to take it lying down when someone commandeers his car keys. He picks his head up and cocks it in Thor’s direction, but doesn’t get to his feet. Okay, so maybe he _is_ going to take this lying down. 

“Later,” Thor repeats in a saucy tone, and exits quickly, clicking the door shut behind him. What a _prick._

The room becomes silent again, but for the sound of Zeus snuffling at the pillows on the couch in order to make himself comfortable. Bucky stares at his door and then heaves a heavy sigh. 

“Fuck.”

Zeus looks at him quizzically, then drops into a ball on one of the pillows, with his casted leg sticking out from under his body. Bucky grits his teeth. _Fuck._

\--

He wakes at four in the morning, sprawled over the couch face down. He might be drooling. All his lights are still on, and he seems to be wearing a sweater on his tongue. His head weighs a thousand pounds. “Uhhhhhhhhh,” he moans, and blearily looks down at the ground. Zeus is nosing at his hand, cold snout pressed to Bucky’s palm where it hangs over the side of the couch. _Oh._ He probably has to go outside and pee. Speaking of, Bucky could do a little of that himself, too. Slowly he lurches to his feet, feeling stiff all over and decidedly hung over. God, work today is gonna _suck_.

He stumbles to the bathroom and flips on the light. In the mirror he can see all of the couch lines etched into his face. His hair looks like a rat nested in it. Not his best look. After taking care of his own bodily needs and Zeus’s, he shuts off all his lights and drops back into bed, pulling the covers up over himself for a little more sleep. He doesn’t even bother to change. He’s slept this long in his clothes, so what’s the difference? When he wakes again later, he has a vague recollection of Thor being there the evening before, but he doesn’t remember him confiscating his car keys until he goes looking for them. It’s then he realizes when he took Zeus out earlier, he didn’t have them. He didn’t even lock his door behind him. Oh well. Did his electrician friend say he would bring the keys back? His head still hurts, and he doesn’t particularly want to talk to Thor or anyone else about Steve yet, but damnit, he needs to go to work. 

Just as he is texting Thor’s phone, there is a knock on his door. Thor, of course. Bucky pulls the door open and grabs the keys out of Thor’s hand before the man can even offer them up.

“Thanks,” Bucky grumbles. He knows he looks rough, and he’s not in the mood for any shit from the big blond. “Gotta go to work. Bye.” He ignores the _I told you so_ look on Thor’s face and shuts the door.

Thor’s deep voice floats through the door at him. _“Call me.”_

\--

He knows it’s a mistake before he even does it, but he really can’t see a way around it. Bucky sits in the parking lot of his office, staring at Darcy’s car. She’s there already, even though he wanted to get in and out before she turned up. Looking for his keys earlier and waiting for Thor to return them put him a little behind schedule. And he can’t just skip the office and go to the work site. _Shit._

Well, nothing for it. He pushes his car door open and strides in, hoping she’ll be busy doing something work-related (or even non-work-related) and won’t take a good look at him. As much as he loves Darcy, he is NOT going to talk about it right now. As he pushes open the front door, he’s disappointed to see she’s not on the telephone, or filing any papers, or even filing her nails. She’s just sitting and looking at the mail. _Shit._

“Morning!” She sings out, dark hair bouncing around her face, sounding cheerier than any human being has the right to sound on a Monday morning, much less today. 

Her eyes land on him and instantly her expression changes, morphing into distress. “Bucky?” She states his name tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mutters as he flies past her and makes for the temporary safety of his office. He shuts the door behind himself and gathers what he needs as quickly as he can, knowing he doesn’t have much time. Sure enough, the knocking starts almost immediately. He ignores it until he’s ready to flee. Then he jerks the door open to reveal a surprised Darcy, fist up and ready to knock again. Her eyes widen and she steps back as Bucky exits his office and moves past her in the narrow hall.

He avoids looking her in the eye as he brushes past. She follows him out, asking again what’s wrong with him, but he doesn’t stop moving. It’s like paparazzi with a movie star—stop moving, and you’re dead meat. Moving targets are so much harder to hit. She shadows him all the way across the room, silent on the carpeted floor, till he reaches the door.

“Bucky…”

The worry in her voice is palpable; he hesitates a split second but doesn’t look back, doesn’t want to see the look that goes with that voice. He pushes open the door, the glass cool on his hands, and leaves. He’ll talk to her later, when he’s ready. _If you’re ever ready._

For the rest of the day, he tries to drown himself in work so deeply, he doesn’t have time to think about Steve. It’s tough. He fantasizes about him, showing up at a job site, proclaiming his undying love for Bucky, his need to be with him. Steve, with his gorgeous blue eyes fixed only on him, taking his hand and telling him how he can’t stand for them to be apart. It fills his heart with such a sense of hope, of longing, but it’s all a lie. He shakes himself out of it, bringing himself back to grim reality. There will be no visits, no proclamations. No hope.

Darcy texts him several times throughout the day, but he doesn’t respond. The noise level at the house they are working on is not particularly helpful in his current hung over state, so he’s pretty grumpy. Finally when his shift is done, he doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He gets to go home and rest, try to recuperate from his hangover, but also will have lots of time to think. Too much time to think. 

During the drive home, he wishes he could take Zeus for a nice, long, _quiet_ walk in the park, but of course he can’t. The short trip outside for his dog to do his business won’t help at all. He needs to _do something_ to burn off some energy and all of the frustration he’s feeling with himself. Why can’t he get control of his own thoughts? Seems like every two seconds he catches himself thinking about Steve. 

He pulls into the lot of their apartment complex and instinctively looks for Steve’s car, then stops himself. _Think about something else_. How hard can that be? He had a life before Steve came into it. He _still_ has a life, and Steve can still be a part of it in some way. _Eventually_. So why does he feel so awful? Why does everything around him feel drained of color? He feels drained too, like he’s a ghost or a shadow, merely pretending to be human. 

He just needs some time. That’s what he tells himself. The one spot of joy in his entire day comes when Zeus greets him at the door. You can’t be sad when a wiggly dog comes at you, excited just to have you walk into the room. He gives his dog a significantly longer barrage of pets and rubs than usual, kisses his head, and even picks him up and snuggles him in his arms. It helps. Zeus whines in delight, and as soon as his feet hit the ground again he totters off in search of a toy. Bucky stands and starts moving toward the kitchen, but is stopped when his tiny friend returns with a ball in his mouth. 

The ball _Steve_ bought for him. He feels his own shoulders slump, but he obediently takes the ball out of Zeus’s mouth and throws it for him. He sends it down the hall and bouncing into the bedroom. There is the clickety-clack sound of Zeus’s toenails on the wooden floor, alternating with a dull whump when his casted leg hits the surface, as Zeus scoots as fast as he can after the ball. Bucky sighs and sinks down to the floor, sitting cross-legged as he waits for his imminent and inevitable return. 

As he waits, he considers going down to see Thor and apologizing for being what he assumes was a complete asshole to him in his drunken state. That would require an explanation of why he was being such an asshole, and he’s not ready for that, so he decides against it. In fact, he’s surprised Thor hasn’t been texting him today, asking questions. Odd. He’ll take the reprieve, though. It’s all too soon everyone’s going to find out. He wonders if Steve would even tell anybody, or if it was such non-news to him, he wouldn’t even think to. 

Quickly he steers his mind away from that line of thinking, because then he starts to consider how long it will take Steve to find a new lover, and that is so unbearably painful, it takes his breath away. He’s not turning back to alcohol again, though. Lesson learned there. Zeus is back with the ball, so after he heaves it away a second time he pops up and goes to the freezer. Opening it is a great disappointment, however. No ice cream. _FUCK!_

Well, that settles it. He’ll go to the grocery store after he feeds Zeus and takes him out. He does need dinner, after all. The store close to his place makes these chicken wings he’s pretty partial to. Then he can hit the frozen aisle for some Chunky Monkey. Or Chocolate Therapy. Maybe both. _Definitely both_.

Two hours later, he’s had dinner, mowed his way through an entire pint of Chocolate Therapy, and has just started on the Chunky Monkey. He’s also got pints of Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough in reserve. Just in case. He reaches down and flips open the button of his jeans with a sharp sigh of relief. Okay, maybe throttle back on the Chunky Monkey for now. Feeling so full makes him really aware that he needs some exercise. He thinks a moment, then picks up his phone from the counter in front of him and texts Peter to see if he’s available tomorrow night for some biking. Biking is good—not only will it help burn off all these ice cream calories, but he won’t really be required to _talk_ while they ride. Perfect. 

Peter texts back that he’s in. Bucky stares at all of the unread messages from Darcy piling up in his inbox. There are no messages from Steve. He sets the phone back down and picks up the pint of Chunky Monkey.

\--

That night, Bucky tosses and turns, unable to turn his brain off long enough to sleep. At least the night before, the alcohol had knocked him out till morning. Now there’s nothing to stop his thoughts, nothing to give him peace. Morning comes all too soon, and he feels like he hasn’t slept a wink. It’s all he can do to drag his ass into the shower and pretend like today is a bright new day. It’s not. It’s just like yesterday and the day before, sans drunkenness. The water sprays him right in the face and runs down in haphazard rivulets as he stands there, unmoving. 

At least he won’t have to play keep-away with Darcy today. When he’s set to go, he drives directly to the house he’s currently working on and parks in the street. He does want to text her just to let her know he’s alive. He owes her that. He pulls out his cell phone and tip taps on it. Then erases what he wrote and types something else. And erases it. He chews on his lip. Takes a slurp of coffee from his travel mug. Types again. 

_Darcy. I’m okay. I’ll stop by the office later._

 

That’s good enough to keep her off his back for now, right? And he does mean to go see her later. Honestly. He will. 

\--

It’s a long work day when you’re running on an empty tank. By evening Bucky is really wiped, and falls into his car in exhaustion. He sits there for a while, just taking a breather. But as soon as he stops thinking about work, he starts thinking about Steve. About what he’ll say to Darcy. About _Steve_. His chest seizes up and constricts. He’s been insisting all along he isn’t in love. Insisting all along they’re just friends. But Darcy _knew_ , didn’t she —knew how stupid he was, falling in love with someone who wasn’t interested. She somehow knew, and she just let it happen. Come to think of it, she didn’t discourage him from spending time with Steve at all! Just the opposite, really. 

Why would she have done that? Maybe she thought it was inevitable that with his first try, he would have his heart crushed again. Maybe she thought he needed to get back into the dating world, in any way, shape, or form, any which way possible. He supposed this would technically be his “rebound” relationship, doomed to fail from the start. _That’s fucking depressing._

Why couldn’t things just be different? He’s dying to see Steve again, to hold him in his arms, to touch those soft lips once more. And he can’t. And it _sucks_. He lets his head fall forward and rest on his forearms on the steering wheel. The sadness creeps in, filling him up in every corner and crevice of his being. It feels heavy, pulling him down into a place he doesn’t want to be again. Suddenly he doesn’t want to talk to Darcy. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone except Steve, who he very specifically _can’t_ talk to about this.

He lifts his head and stares forward, unseeing. Vaguely he’s aware that everyone else has already left for the day and he’s sitting there alone. Alone, like he will be for eternity. Whoa, that was pretty maudlin, but it fits his mood. Bucky Barnes, the man destined to be alone in the world, to have no one to share his life with. Guess some people, like Steve, prefer it that way, but not Bucky. He’s always craved that sense of togetherness, the sense that he belonged to someone special, and that person belonged to him in turn. To have that someone special who would always be there for him, that someone he could love and cherish. And he thought Steve could be that person. A stabbing pain shoots through his chest. _Steve._

He needs to get out of here. His hand automatically reaches for the ignition to start the car, but out of the corner of his eye he sees movement next to him, and turns his head in surprise. And then gets an even bigger surprise. It’s Darcy, standing next to his car, arms crossed in front of her. Darcy, who hardly _ever_ comes directly to work sites. _Oh shit._ He closes his eyes, spirits sinking even lower. He didn’t even hear her car pull up behind his. How long has she been watching him? Did she know he would chicken out of going to see her? 

Pushing the button to slide the window down, he looks up at her. “Hi,” he says weakly.

“Hi?” she snaps. “That’s all you’ve got to say, when you show up for work looking half-dead, and then won’t talk to me for _two whole days_?” 

She’s not mad, she’s worried out of her mind. He can hear it in her voice. It’s not that he wants to keep things from her, it’s just…he can’t do this right now. _Please, not now._

“Darcy….” His voice cracks. “I’m alright.” _No I’m not._ “I just need more time.” _Like a thousand years._ “Something happened with Steve, but I can’t talk about it yet.” Saying his name out loud even hurts.

She shakes her head. “Bucky, just tell me. Whatever it is, I want to help.”

He lets his eyes fall shut again and his head fall back against the head rest. “I know you do,” he whispers; he opens his eyes, searching hers, fumbling for the words to convey what he’s feeling. “I can’t be with him anymore. And it…it just hurts so much.”

He swears, he is _NOT_ going to cry, but her expression of shock and sorrow isn’t helping his situation.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” she cries out, fingers clutching at the edge of the window frame. 

He shakes his head. “Later, Darcy. _Please._ ”

It was the _please_ that got her. Her eyes soften and she relents. “Okay...okay then. As soon as you can.”

He mouths the word _thanks_ and she grimaces. “You’re killing me, Buckybear.”

He nods. He knows. She squats down, leaning in through the window to give him a tight hug. “I love you, you know,” she whispers into his ear.

His eyes feel wet. “Love you too,” he tells her, before she moves away from the car and heads back to her own.

\--

He almost backs out of biking that evening, but then decides to plunge ahead anyway. His hope is that the fresh air and hard exercise will be good for him, sort of cleanse his mind and body. He also hoped Peter would be unobservant enough not to notice or question his mood, but no such luck. Peter asks what’s up as they are walking their bikes out of the apartment complex. Clearly, though, if he’s not going to talk about it yet with Darcy, he’s not going to talk about it with Quill. He should just make up something about work to throw him off the scent. Yeah. And then when he opens his mouth, what comes out? 

“Steve.”

He quickly presses his lips together. Criminy, has he completely lost his self-control? It just slipped out. Peter looks curious and asks what _about_ Steve, but Bucky shuts it down this time, refusing to say anything else on the matter. Luckily, Peter is chill enough not to press. They go for a long ride and it feels great; the wind in his hair, sweat pouring off of him, not caring about anything but pumping his legs and watching the trail. He’s exhausted, but sorry when they are done. 

Seeing Peter does remind him of something he’d forgotten…he and Steve are supposed to go to their first football game together soon. The thought both excites him and makes him quail. He desperately wants to see him again…but what if it’s painfully awkward to be together? What if he gets all weepy and drives Steve off for good? He’s got to figure out an excuse to see him beforehand, sort of a test run. Maybe he could make up some question about the website. That’s a legit reason, but probably something that could be accomplished via text. He needs his physical presence. Hmm. He’ll think on that. 

The next day, Wednesday, is a little more bearable, only because he’s not stressing about whether Darcy will attack from around a hidden corner, trying to pump him for details. She’s letting him process at his own pace, and thankfully hasn’t squealed to his sister yet either. _That’s_ not a conversation he’s looking forward to. Thor hasn’t even bugged him, which he finds unbelievable…until he realizes he’s not the only source of information Thor might turn to. Did he ask Steve what was going on? What would Steve say? 

During his drive home from work, he mentally concocts an entire conversation between the two of them, in which Steve confesses his feelings for Bucky and his heartbreak at their separation. Steve is pretty broken up, even more than Bucky is. It’s a pretty good conversation, if he does say so himself. If only it really happened. He pulls into the parking lot and searches for an empty spot…there, further down the row. He parks, climbs out of his Audi and starts walking toward the building, still thinking about his oh-so-desirable ex-lover. 

And then he’s _there_. In the parking lot, waiting for him! Steve, beautiful Steve, with that angelic face. For a moment, he forgets about everything that’s happened and just feels pure joy at seeing the man he loves. Then he remembers that’s not the way things are now, and as he walks toward him he looks down at his feet, face falling. Friends. They’re just friends now. He’s got to act like it, or risk losing him completely. It’s that threat, and that threat alone, that gives him the wherewithal to lift himself out of his funk and try to appear normal. 

He’s able to greet him and start light small talk without falling apart, which is major. It sidetracks him, though, when Steve says something about having to get used to change. Does that mean he actually _misses_ Bucky? That their time together did mean _something_ besides just a booty call? His imagination starts to run away with him. Maybe Steve doesn’t just want to be friends. Maybe he wants something more! He’s too scared to actually hope for this, because if he does let himself work up expectations of more, and then it doesn’t happen… 

But inside his head he’s examining the possibility that Steve misses him. Could it be true? That’s when Steve asks him if he still wants to go to the football game together. This captures his full attention again. WHAT? Of course he does! How could he think anything otherwise? As they start up the staircase to the second floor, he rushes to assure him he still wants to go. Steve’s eyes meet his, so intoxicating, so intense. 

Wait…why would Steve ask that? Is _he_ the one who doesn’t want to go together? Also a possibility, if Bucky’s worst fear has come true—that Steve realized Bucky fell for him and can’t handle being around him anymore. Bucky falters then. He doesn’t want to know the answer to the question, but still has to ask. 

“Do you…do you still? Because I’ll understand if you’d rather not…”

Steve stops walking and Bucky stops as well, standing in the middle of the stairs facing each other. “No!” Steve begins. “I want to go with you. Look.” He seems nervous, running his hand through his short hair. “Whatever else is going on, I meant it when I said we could still be friends. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to lose you.”

A wave of emotion hits Bucky and it’s a mix of different things. Happiness that maybe they can continue their friendship. Fear that Steve _knows_ , because what else could he mean by “whatever else is going on”? And why else would he be nervous? He’s practically walking on eggshells. And lastly, there is intense sorrow. Sorrow that Steve just said it out loud. _Friends._ He only wants to be friends. Nothing more. Bucky was fooling himself, entertaining the notion that there _could_ be more. 

Of course there can’t be. He’s going to have to settle for platonic companionship, and like it. “I don’t want to lose your friendship, either,” he tells him sincerely, because really, he doesn’t. 

But it’s so hard to pretend he’s not incredibly disappointed by that, either. Steve looks for a moment like he wants to ask something else, but then changes his mind. Whatever it is, Bucky’s glad he doesn’t ask, because he’s close to his limit of being able to make polite conversation instead of throwing himself directly at Steve’s chest to hang on for dear life.

The good thing to come out of the encounter is he got the dry run he wanted. The bad thing is he’s not sure if he’ll be able to last through an entire football game without giving away the whole show. But he’s got to try. 

\--

It’s after he sees Steve and gets to talk to him that Bucky decides to go see Darcy, so he texts her to see if she’s busy. Turns out she _is_ busy, but she’s in the neighborhood and says she’ll stop by his place shortly. He’s the one who’s nervous now, unsure if he can have a real conversation without losing it and turning into a basket case. He and Zeus are chilling on the couch when the doorbell rings. He picks Zeus up and carries him under his arm like he’s a football, over to the door so Darcy can give him some love. 

He pulls it open and Thor stands in the hallway instead, with a benign smile on his face. He’s got a large dog biscuit in his hand. Under Bucky’s arm, his dog’s rear end starts wiggling back and forth, led by his tail. Aside from seeing a treat undoubtedly for him, Zeus likes Thor, a fact the Norse and Greek mythology-loving part of Bucky loves. But that’s neither here nor there. 

“Well, look who looks human today,” Thor says, only slightly sarcastically.

Bucky can’t help but hang his head, then look back up at Thor sheepishly. “Sorry. I was really trashed when you were here before.”

Thor makes a pretend surprised face, both hands on his cheeks, bone and all. “Really? I had _no_ idea,” he replies, and it’s more than a little sarcastic this time. He reaches out, pets Zeus on the head and gives him the bone. Zeus clamps his jaw down on it like he’s afraid it’ll walk away from him. “You’re a terrible drunk,” Thor observes calmly.

Bucky shrugs. That’s fair. He steps back to allow Thor entrance and heads to the couch, talking along the way. “I suppose I owe you some kind of explanation. I wondered why you didn’t come back sooner.”

Shaking his head, Thor takes a seat on the couch as well. “I already know exactly what’s going on. And I was waiting to see if you two would fix things yourselves.”

Bucky’s mouth forms an “O”. “You know what? Did you talk to _Steve_?” Fix things? What does Thor know? And who told him? And why does his life feel like a soap opera right now?

Thor’s blond head is shaking again. “Nope. Not Steve.” 

Bucky gapes at him. Zeus crawls over his legs and sits down on the couch between them, chewing his bone madly.

“Then who?”

“Sam.”

Sam. Of course Sam knows…what? Whatever Steve told him, obviously, but what would that be? Despite the fact that it makes him feel like he’s in middle school again, he has to ask. “What did Sam tell you?” He eyes Thor intently. 

“Bucky.” Thor ignores his question. “Why are you and Steve being such idiots?” 

Bucky frowns, dark brows knitting together. “Sam said we’re idiots?”

Thor rubs his forehead. “No. I surmised that on my own. I know what you did, and I know you and Steve need to talk to each other. I mean, _really_ talk to each other.”

Bucky stands up. “Well, it’s been nice seeing you, buddy…”

“Sit down!” Thor orders, and Bucky complies, though rather rebelliously, throwing himself back down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bucky,” Thor hisses, “You have a chance for something good here. Don’t throw it away.”

“I have no chance for _anything_ here,” Bucky argues. “And if you heard Steve talk, you’d know that.”

Thor opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the doorbell rings. Bucky groans and looks at the ceiling. _Darcy_. Now she and Thor can gang up on him. Great.

“You expecting someone?” Thor asks innocently…just a smidge _too_ innocently, to Bucky’s ears. He smells a set-up, and looks at his companion in disbelief, mouth falling open. 

“You and Darcy are in cahoots!” he accuses him.

“Cahoots?” Thor’s blue eyes are wide. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

There is another knock on the door, and Thor looks from Bucky to the door and back. “Maybe you’d better answer that.”

Making a face of disgust, Bucky stomps over to the door and opens it. Darcy sweeps in, clad in shorts and a halter top, purse strap slung over one shoulder. It’s hot outside. His irritation dissipates when she gives him a giant hug.

“I’ve been _so worried_ about you!” she tells him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and leads her into his living space. 

Thor waves from the couch. “Hey Darcy.”

She finger waves back. “Hey.” 

Stabbing a finger in her direction, Bucky warns, “You two aren’t off the hook. I know you’re conspiring with each other.” 

Thor snorts into the air. Darcy waves a hand at Bucky airily. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not conspiring about anything.” 

He allows her to choose a seat first; she collapses on the couch next to Zeus, who is wiggling like a fish out of water. While she pets him, Bucky takes a seat in one of the chairs.

“Then what are you both doing here _at the same time_?” he questions, settling back into the arm chair.

“I told you,” she starts, kissing Zeus on the nose, “I was worried about you. And so was Thor.” She nods in his direction. “What, we’re not allowed to talk to each other without your permission?”

Bucky makes a face. Damnit. What can he say to that? “I just don’t want you talking about _me_ ,” he mumbles. 

“Honey, why can’t you just tell me what happened?” Darcy commands his attention again. “Why did you stop seeing Steve, when it makes you so unhappy?”

 _Ugh. They know._ Do they really have to talk about this in detail? It still makes his chest clutch in pain, just thinking about it. He lowers his eyes and picks at his shorts with his fingertips. “I had to. Before I drove him away,” he says in a low voice. 

“But _why_ do you think you’ll drive him away?” Darcy cries out, but Bucky merely presses his lips together.

“Are you done with him, then?” Thor asks roughly. “You got what you wanted, so you called it quits?”

“Fuck off, Thor!” Geez, what kind of question is that? “It’s not like that!” He looks from Thor to Darcy, expecting her to be outraged at the idea as well, but she isn’t looking at Thor at all. She’s looking at him, and she looks thoughtful. 

“Then what is it like?” she says softly. 

Oh, now he gets it. Bucky shuts his mouth again. They’re just trying to get him to _talk_. About his _feelings_. His feelings that Steve _doesn’t_ reciprocate. Feelings he’s got to shove deep down and forget about.

“Bucky,” prods Thor. “Have you told him your feelings have changed?” 

“NO! I can’t!” 

“Why not?” It’s Darcy pressing this time, leaning in toward him, hands on the couch cushion she’s perched on. “I think his have.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Bucky states flatly. “He told me he only want to be friends.”

Darcy shakes her head. “Bucky, that was weeks, months ago. Things change.” 

Bucky sighs. If only that were true. “No, I mean he told me that _today_."

Thor has a significantly sized frown on his handsome face. “He told you that today?” 

“Yes, Mr. Fix-It, today. Right to my face.” Bucky pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “So whatever I thought was going on, isn’t going on.”

Darcy pops up out of her spot and sits on the arm of his chair, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Bucky, no! Don’t give up!”

Fuck, why beat a dead horse? He shakes his head and leans away, pushing her hands off of him in defeat. “It’s _over,_ Darcy. End of conversation.”

“But…” 

“No buts.” Bucky sits firmly on this point. What good will it do to dwell on it, besides make him even more miserable? Darcy looks visibly upset with him. Thor stays quiet, still frowning and stroking his chin. Zeus is in hog heaven, gnawing noisily on his bone from one side of his mouth.

“Thank you, guys,” Bucky then changes the subject, in all sincerity. He’s lucky to have people who care this much about his happiness. “I know you mean well, but there’s nothing else to do. I just have to work through this myself.” 

Darcy looks like she might get teary, and he absolutely will lose it if that happens, so he turns and appeals to Thor. “Would you mind walking her out to her car, since it’s getting dark?”

She protests immediately. “I don’t need anyone to walk me out to my car, Bucky.”

Thankfully though, Thor gets it. He rises and says gallantly, “Of course I’ll escort you out to your car, Darcy.”

She blows out a sigh and frowns, but in the end relents. “Oh _alright._ ” 

She stands, grabs her purse from the floor where she had dropped it, and she and Thor are on their way. He follows them to the door; she pauses and looks at him. “Text me later, though, okay?”

He nods at her, then at Thor, receiving an answering nod and parting request from him. “No repeats of Sunday though, yeah?” 

Bucky nods again. “Yeah, okay.” He means it—Sunday and Monday were horrendous, so he’s not in any hurry to repeat them. 

\--

Bucky gets through the rest of the week, just barely. Saturday is game day, in more than one way. In the morning they head down to have their usual basketball game, but there’s nothing usual about it. Steve is…different. He’s not as touchy-feely as he normally is. _Because he doesn’t want to give me the wrong idea?_ As the game goes on, it becomes more and more obvious to Bucky that Steve is uncomfortable. And that makes _him_ uncomfortable as well. 

After the third trip down the court guarding Steve, without him sticking his ass right in Bucky’s personal space, he can’t go on. It’s too distressing. Steve has been playing ball with these guys long before Bucky came into the picture, and if he’s ruining it for him with his presence, then Bucky is willing to remove himself. Permanently. He can’t hurt Steve like this. 

“A word?” he asks when they are on a water break, cooling down with the morning sun overhead, not yet sweltering. 

Steve and Sam had been standing apart from the others, but Sam observantly takes off too, giving them a little bit of space. They need it. Steve says he’s okay when Bucky asks, but it sure doesn’t seem so. He keeps looking at the others behind them, eyes shifting back and forth, and though Bucky wonders what they’re doing back there, he doesn’t want to turn around. This is hard enough without seeing their eyes on him. He’s got to know if he should quit basketball, but when he brings it up, Steve’s response is clear. 

“No!” he yells, and reaches up briefly, as if he wants to take Bucky’s arm. For his part, Bucky tries not to lean in toward his touch. Steve withdraws his hand, then goes on. 

“No, I want you to play. Damnit!” He sounds mad, but somehow _not_ at Bucky. Doesn’t stop Bucky from blaming himself anyway, though. He’s not sure he can believe Steve when the blond says, “You belong here now. You shouldn’t have to stop just to avoid me. I was trying not to make you uncomfortable.”

How is treating Bucky differently supposed to make him comfortable? There’s _no_ part of this that’s not uncomfortable. He just wants things to be the way they _were_ , when he and Steve could paw at each other freely and have a good laugh about it. So, he says so. Well, not the part about the pawing. The part about things being the way they were. 

Steve’s response is oddly comforting, for a number of reasons. “Just give it time, Buck. We’ll figure things out.”

Number one, he called him _Buck_ , which Bucky _loves_. Number two, he can say from experience that time _does_ help to heal wounds. Number three, Steve expressing a willingness to work things out is the best tonic he could have given Bucky. So, okay. Time. He’s got time. He’s feeling better when they turn back to the others. He tries to apologize, but Steve stops him, and there’s that edge of anger again, but still not directed at him.

Then Steve snaps at their companions, for pretty much no reason. It’s confusing. Why is he angry? Game play continues, and Steve does guard a little more close quartered, but it’s still…different. But they’ve got that time thing working for them now, so there’s that. When the game is over, Steve immediately takes off running for the building. Sam flies off after him, leaving Bucky, Thor, Clint, and Peter slowly leaving the concrete court. 

Clint looks around at those remaining. “What just happened?” he says, to no one in particular. 

Thor grimaces. “Steve’s not expressing himself.” He gives Bucky a rather pointed look. 

Clint answers. “I thought he was ‘expressing’ pretty well. He was just being a dick about it.”

Peter laughs, but Bucky stays silent, feeling confused again as they all separate and head back inside. He’s got some thinking to do.

-

Bucky successfully avoids thinking about Steve’s motives while he’s taking his shower. Instead he re-lives their shower sex from the other night, and that’s so much easier than thinking about that other shit. In fact, he’s hoping they don’t have to talk about _any_ of the shit that’s happened this week. Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend that nothing was wrong, just enjoy the football game, and enjoy each other’s company without any pressure? 

That’s his goal for today. Get back to that camaraderie they used to share. That’s not too much to ask, is it? He and Steve have never had trouble finding things to talk about before, and he silently vows _not_ to ask any potentially embarrassing or difficult questions. Today is just for getting comfortable with each other again. That’s it. No introspective speeches, no psychoanalysis. He nods to himself as he dresses in his shorts and football jersey. Yep.

\--

“So…Sam thinks that maybe we should…talk about things,” Steve says as they are on the road, with Bucky driving them in his Audi. 

What. The. Fuck. Didn’t Steve get the memo? 

Well, maybe he’s misunderstanding his intentions here. Maybe ‘Sam’ wanted them to talk about recipes for beef stew, or what type of shave cream they like. He avoids looking at Steve, squeezing the steering wheel in his hands till his knuckles hurt. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, but he wishes now he’d worn it down, so he could hide his face. He gives Steve an out, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he forces the issue and asks the one question Bucky doesn’t want to answer.

“Well, maybe the reason why. Why you wanted to… stop.”

Why the fuck would he want to make Bucky say it out loud? What purpose would it serve, aside from destroying their friendship once and for all? This isn’t going to help them move past it. Bucky says as much, but dumbass next to him still doesn’t catch on.

“Maybe it needs to be said anyway?”

No. Maybe it doesn’t. Not gonna happen. Doesn’t Steve get that admitting one of them, and one of them only, is in love with the other is NOT going to make things better between them? He sneaks a glance at him. Steve looks slightly green, and his chest is moving up and down rapidly. Maybe he doesn’t _really_ want to talk about this either, but is making a half-hearted attempt in some misguided effort to help Bucky. That would be _so_ like him, putting Bucky first, ahead of his own comfort level. 

“Or maybe if we’re going to get past this, we need to stop talking about it. Sam ever think of that?” Bucky grinds out between clenched teeth, hoping that will put an end to this conversation. The pit of his stomach hurts. Crashing the car is starting to sound like a viable option to talking. 

“Sam’s nosy,” Steve murmurs back, sounding as timid as a mouse, and it deflates Bucky’s frustration completely. Oh, Steve. Here Bucky was, focused on his own problems, when Steve was struggling, too, struggling with how to be around him in this new capacity.

“Sam’s nosy,” Bucky repeats. It’s funny. He apologizes for being a jerk, and goes back to that comforting concept--they need time to work things out together. They don’t need anyone else telling them what to do. They’ll figure it out. Steve seems more relaxed when Bucky mentions taking time to sort through things, and when he shifts the dialogue away from their personal relationship. They start talking about their childhoods, and football, and what shave gel they like, and it’s good. Not exactly the same, but much, much better. Steve smiles a lot more, and it’s not forced. Bucky can look at him, and it hurts like hell underneath the surface, but he can hide it.

So that’s the way to go. Just keep talking about unrelated stuff, like he originally planned. The whole day goes much more smoothly like that. He can almost see light at the end of the tunnel, if he and Steve can keep moving forward like this. The tunnel still looks really dark and scary, and he doesn’t especially want to go down it, but at least there is a sliver of light there somewhere. No, it’s not really what he wants, but it’s all he’s got, and he’s not letting go. 

He offers Steve a curly fry—he takes one and tosses it into his mouth, looking much more like the Steve of old, the one he fell in love with in the first place. Sweet, adorable Steve. He pushes down the swell of love that threatens to flow over. Bucky chews on his fries. He’s got a long way to go.


	14. You Make Me Smushy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time. You know what's coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve!!! It's zero degrees outside, and I don't mean Celcius, I mean Fahrenheit! These days I'm allergic to being around too many drunk people at once, so my plan is to put on some fuzzy PJ's, sit in front of the fireplace with my doggos, and watch Lord of the Rings...again. I hope you all have a great start to the New Year, whatever your plans are!

Chapter Fourteen

After the football game, the next week gets both better and worse for Bucky…better because now everyone knows, and he doesn’t have to skulk around and try to either avoid everyone in the building, or pretend like nothing changed, and everything is hunky dory. It gets worse because he realizes just how tall an order it is, pretending he’s not in love with Steve when he is. 

It’s tough to turn your feelings off. No, not tough, it’s impossible. Even if his brain says he can’t love Steve any more, the rest of his body pays this absolutely no attention at all. His body still walks around every day singing _I LOVE STEVE_ at the top of its lungs. 

It pretty much sucks. But at least there’s Clint. 

He and Thor come up for a visit almost nightly to check on him. They don’t admit that’s what their real purpose is, but Bucky knows. Their visits are pleasant, with a running undercurrent of concern. There are subtle inquiries about Steve, which Bucky turns aside just as subtly. He doesn’t mind so much, until the night Clint produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket and shoves it into his hands, grinning at him. 

“What’s this?”

“I made it for you,” Clint says, still smiling.

They are in Bucky’s kitchen, Bucky standing while Clint and Thor are seated on barstools. 

Thor tosses a handful of popcorn into his mouth from the torn-open bag on the counter between them. “What is it?” he asks.

Bucky shrugs and unfolds it. The large letters across the top of the page are no longer subtle in nature. 

He drops the page down on the counter. “Come on, Clint. What is this?”

Thor grabs it and reads it aloud. “Ranked Percentages--Why Steve loves Bucky.” He laughs and strokes his chin. “You made a pie chart.” It’s not a question, but then he looks at Clint inquisitively. “You come up with this all by yourself?”

Clint tips forward on his stool, leaning on his elbows. “Yep.”

Bucky steals back the paper. He’s trying to move on, damnit. What the hell is this going to prove? “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” 

Bucky shakes his head but reads anyway, curiosity getting the best of him. There is a large graph covering the page, a circle comprised of wedges of different sizes, reading as follows:

65% --Bucky’s the first man ever to make Steve feel smushy  
30% --Clint’s not gay and therefore unavailable  
2% --Bucky laughs at Steve’s dumb jokes  
2% --Steve thinks his weiner (dog) is fantastic  
1% --Steve thinks his weiner (the real one) is fantastic

He drops his hand back to the counter and looks up at his companions, who are watching him carefully. Jesus, Clint. Okay, so he’s trying to prove a point _and_ cheer him up. He gets it. And the list is pretty funny. But as far as convincing him to change his mind? Not a chance. Did they really think it would be this easy? A few words, and he’d forget what Steve said to him? He schools his face to look like he’s having a revelation. Might as well have a little fun with his mother-hen companions. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes excitedly. “I make Steve feel _smushy_? I had no idea.”

“Isn’t it great?” Clint exclaims, eyes wide.

“It IS great! This changes everything!” Bucky declares emphatically, resting his palms on the counter and leaning in toward his two friends. 

“Doesn’t it?” Clint squeaks and leans in as well. Thor is eyeing them both guardedly, slurping down some of his soda.

“How come I never knew this?” Bucky raises one hand in the direction of the paper, then rubs his forehead. Clint’s buying it, hook, line and sinker.

“You were too busy trying not to fall for _him_ ,” he posits, getting wiggly in his seat. “So you’ll talk to him?” The anticipation in his posture is evident.

“NO!” Bucky says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Clint’s face falls, but Thor just chortles. 

“Smushy? Is that even a real word?” he questions, eyebrows raised. 

“Of course it’s a word!” Clint proclaims loudly. “Sappy and mushy. Smushy.” 

“Oh. Right,” Thor states, as if something completely obvious was just shared. “Well, that part is at least accurate.”

“Damn skippy,” Clint sings, and looks at Thor. “How long have we known Steve? And has he EVER been like this before?”

“Never.” Thor’s face is dead serious as he turns his eyes onto Bucky again. “NEVER,” he repeats loudly. 

Bucky chews on his lip. Sappy and mushy. Really? Suddenly he’s starting to doubt himself. They’re both just so _sure_. “And you think I make Steve feel those things?”

Thor clucks. “Of course you do.”

“Of course you do!” Clint echoes, still hopeful. 

Bucky looks down at the paper once more, feeling a little more indecisive than he did a minute ago. He wants so much to _believe_. _So much._ Why couldn’t it be true? It’s so hard to tell if his need for it to be true is affecting his judgment. He’s going to have to think on that for a while longer. But, his own reluctance to talk about the subject aside, Clint and Thor’s hearts are in the right place. He knows they really mean well, and it’s hard to fault them for that. His eyes scan the page a second time and he allows himself to smile. 

“Wait, he loves my weiner dog more than my actual weiner?”

“That was a toss-up,” Clint confesses, amidst Thor’s belly laugh. 

“Well, I haven’t seen your actual weiner, so I make no claims about that, but I will say Zeus is pretty cute,” the taller man agrees. “Lemme see that.”

Bucky passes over the graph. 

“Clint’s not gay, and therefore unavailable,” Thor reads aloud and flutters the paper in his hand. “Really, dude? That’s your number two reason?”

“A perfectly valid point,” Clint insists, and takes a swallow of his own drink. “Face it, Thor, I’m in high demand.”

Thor and Bucky laugh. “So that’s what that queue forming in the hallway is for,” Bucky teases. 

After the guys leave, he spends a little more time thinking about Clint’s words than he probably should. It would be so nice to believe he’s wrong, so nice to believe that Clint is right. _I wish._ Then Steve’s words about being friends echo in his head, and it’s like a giant bucket of cold water gets thrown over him. He huffs out a breath, and goes to bed. 

\--

He almost got away with it. _Almost._ With careful planning and the skillful evasion tactics worthy of a secret agent, Bucky almost got through the whole week without getting trapped by Darcy in order to have a heart-to-heart. She strikes on Thursday, surprising him as he is sneaking a peek at mail on his desk. 

“Have you told him yet?”

The voice from behind him startles him completely, as he thought he was alone in the office, and he drops the handful of letters he’d been holding. Where the hell was she hiding? “Ahh!” He lets out an involuntary start, then turns around to see Darcy lounging in the doorway. “Don’t do that!” he chastises her. 

“Don’t change the subject!” she snaps, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you dodging me all week.”

He feels his scruffy face redden by a hair. He _had_ been dodging her, but she wasn’t supposed to figure that out. Steering clear of her is the most energy he’s expended all week. He hadn’t even shaved lately; in his dreary Steve-less mornings, the effort was just too much. 

“So have you told him?”

A sigh escapes before he can suppress it. He’d like to tell Steve any number of things. _I love you. I want you. Life sucks without you._

“You know that’s not an option here,” he mumbles instead, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Of course it’s an option,” she insists. “You tell him. Simple.”

“Not simple,” he rebuts, feeling a sense of gloom close in over him. This is why he was avoiding talking to her. Despite his moment of indecision when talking to Clint and Thor earlier, he hadn’t changed his mind. All it took was the thought of driving Steve away from him to make him clam up. Being with him at the football game was the closest thing to happiness he’d felt in the last two weeks, and he doesn’t want to mess that up. Subconsciously he presses his lips together. He can’t tell Steve. 

“Bucky.”

Her voice is soft. He realizes he’d been standing there, just staring at the ground between them, and brings his eyes back up to her. He shakes his head sadly. “I can’t, Darcy.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, then seems to change her mind and closes it. Her face is a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. 

“Bucky,” she repeats in a whisper.

“It’s no good,” he mumbles back, shoulders hunching as he turns away and pretends to examine his mail. How many times does he have to say it?

From the corner of his eye he sees her stand there silently for another moment, then disappear from the room. 

He’s glad to be alone again. 

\--

When Friday finally rolls around, Bucky welcomes it. He gets to see Steve, and he can’t wait for those eyes to be on him, and that smile to turn his insides to goo. Because as painful as it is on the one hand, it’s glorious on the other. It takes him a little longer to get out of his apartment than he wants, because Zeus seems to have been convinced the two of them were spending the evening sitting on the couch together (he can’t imagine why—that’s what they’ve been doing pretty much every night since the falling out), and deliberately took an extra long time outside, milling around doing nothing, just to spite him. 

By the time he gets to Thor’s place for the beer-tasting party, almost everyone is there already. He notices Steve immediately, sitting in a chair next to Clint on the sectional. He’s wearing an AC/DC shirt that is so old and frayed, it looks like it might disintegrate from his body while he’s wearing it. He’s desperately hoping for that to happen. Steve also looks like he hasn’t bothered to shave in the last couple of days, and the thin layer of stubble on his face makes him look even sexier than when he’s clean shaven. He looks _delicious._

When Bucky sits down next to Clint, Steve turns to him right away to greet him, and it almost takes his breath away. He’s _smiling_ and happy, and a matching sensation spreads right through Bucky’s chest and fills him up. Then Steve _giggles_ , and Bucky almost loses it. There is no sound more adorable than Steve Rogers giggling. He and Clint are pretty obviously tipsy already, and it’s the first time he’s really seen him under the influence. He’s endearingly perky, completely the opposite of what Bucky feels like when he’s drunk. Mentally he vows _not_ to get hammered tonight. He doesn’t want to miss out on any time he could be enjoying with this happy-go-lucky version of Steve.

Thor claps him on the shoulder from behind and hands him a beer, but it comes with a warning about its potency, and Bucky pays attention. The look in Thor’s eye tells him he’s remembering Bucky in his soused state, too. Steve and Clint continue bantering with each other, and it’s so cute that it makes Bucky actually laugh out loud. He can’t even remember the last time he did so, and having that weight lifted, even for a short time, feels wonderful. Plus, the way Steve is looking at him when he says he wants to talk to him is making him feel even warmer inside. There are those blue eyes, just for him. It’s so good, it hurts. Even if they’re just friends. Even if it’s innocent small-talk. He laughs again. Yeah. It’s good. 

When Peter arrives, they play a very strange game involving lots of plastic wrap. And candy. After Bucky gets his first Snickers bar, he decides maybe the game isn’t so strange after all. When Steve gets nothing and sticks his lower lip out like a little boy pouting, it gets Bucky grinning from ear to ear. He takes pity on him and offers up some of his own candy bar. His intentions were pure, honest to goodness, but DAMN, when Steve licks his fingers, it’s so erotic Bucky almost moans out loud. Steve’s eyes were closed, his red lips tight around each digit as he sucked them in and out of his mouth. And all Bucky can think about is Steve’s pretty lips around his cock, sucking that in and out of his mouth instead. 

Holy fuck. Suddenly his jeans start to feel tight, and his heart is beating a very rapid tattoo in his chest.

He can’t think like that. 

Steve is his friend. Just his friend. He manages to tear his eyes away before Steve sees him leering, and focuses on slowing down his breathing. He looks at Natasha and Sam…things that are not arousing… anywhere except in the hot blond’s direction, until his dick settles back down. Once he gets his control back, he enjoys the remainder of the game, even though he doesn’t win. Those football tickets would have been aces. At least he got four candy bars out of it, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve. 

Steve won exactly nothing, which Bucky finds hilarious and also concerning, because for as much alcohol as he’s seen him consume, he hasn’t had nearly enough to eat. He gives Steve some of his Twix bar, but really he’d like to get him to eat a side of beef. Maybe a ham. That would surely sop up some of that booze. Hopefully Steve will find some of the munchies provided for them appetizing and dig in. When Steve gets called into the kitchen and vacates his seat, it is quickly taken up by Peter.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?” 

“It’s going,” Bucky responds in a mellow voice. 

Peter nods at him. “You let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky agrees, nodding back. It’s a bit of an odd comment, but he lets it pass. 

That’s the first time that exchange happens, but it’s not the last. Bucky has a great time at the party talking to everyone, but do they really all have to hover? Does he really look like he’s in such bad shape? He _thought_ he looked fairly normal, but the way everyone is acting, he’s a fucking hot mess. A short time later, Natasha drops onto the arm of the chair he is sitting in and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“How’s it going, Bucky? You need anything?”

He turns to her and points to the drink he has sitting on the end table. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t mean a _drink_ , silly.”

“Oh.” He smiles back at her. “Thanks, Nat.”

A bit later on, Sam is the next one to ask. “Hey, Bucky,” he greets him, sidling up next to him as he is grabbing some chips from the dining table. “How’s it going?” 

Bucky pauses mid-air, chip in hand. “Uh, it’s good. I’m good. How are you?” 

Sam grins and leans in, grabbing a handful himself. “I’m good. You need anything, you let me know.”

Tossing the chip into his mouth, Bucky nods and mumbles back, “Thanks, man.”

It’s nice to know people care about you. Really. But when Thor approaches him and whispers into his ear, “Hey, how are you doing? Need anything?”—it’s the last straw. 

Bucky groans and swivels his body, setting his shoulders stubbornly. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because we love you, man,” Thor says, face somber but eyes twinkling. His face cracks into a smile when Bucky groans a second time. “You know how to get people to stop asking, right?” he teases. 

Bucky rolls his eyes at that one. Nice try, Thor. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Just then Clint strolls up. “How’s it going, Bucky?”

“Augh!” he grunts, steps right past the duo, pulls open the patio door and traipses outside.

Before he pulls the door shut, he hears Clint’s next words. “Was it something I said?”

\--

The night air feels good compared to the stuffiness of the apartment, and Bucky stays out there for a while, staring out into the distance. Lost in his own thoughts, he loses track of time, and it surprises him when he hears the patio door open behind him. He’s even more surprised, happily so, to see Steve’s silhouette highlighted in the door frame. Then the shade gets closed from inside, and Steve’s form turns more into shadow. Bulky, sexy shadow.

“Hi Steve,” he greets him. 

“Hey Buck!” Steve responds. He’s without a beer in his hands, for a change. Bucky’s about to ask how he’s feeling when he speaks again. “I just want to tell you, I’ve got it all figured out now.” He takes a step toward Bucky. 

What? Oh God, please don’t let this be what he’s afraid it’s going to be. “Got what figured out?” he asks cautiously. 

“What to do to keep things right!” Steve explains. “I can be just like that guy…Cyrano…Cyrano de…,” there is a pause while Steve is clearly wracking his brain for a name. His face is screwed up in such a cute way. “That guy with the big nose,” he finally settles for, in defeat.

“Cyrano de Bergerac?” It’s the only Cyrano Bucky knows. He just doesn’t know what it has to do with Steve.

“Yessss!” Steve points a lazy finger at him. “That’s the guy!”

Bucky sets the bottle of beer he’d been nursing for the last hour down on a little glass table. What the hell is he talking about? “Steve, you don’t have a big nose.”

“NO!” Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “Not the nose part. I mean, I can just love you from afar. You’ll never even know it, I promise. It won’t be weird at all.” 

_I can just love you from afar._ Without realizing it, Bucky takes steps closer to him. Did he…he couldn’t have just said that. He must have heard him wrong.

“What did you just say?” He needs to hear it again. 

“I said I’ll just love you from afar. That way I won’t bother you,” Steve tells him matter-of-factly. He _said it._ Plain as day. _Love you._ But…he can’t mean _love you_ love you, can he? Is it the alcohol talking? Or is this for real? How can he tell? His heart is pounding, sending blood racing into his ears so loudly he almost covers them with his hands. Instead, he grinds his palms into his eyes. Is this happening? Or did he fall down into the rabbit hole? 

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Steve. How drunk are you?” he moans. It’s got to be the beer doing the talking. He wouldn't just tip the Universe upside down like that, so nonchalantly, if he was sober. 

Steve tips his head and stares at him calmly. “Not very. Do you want me to be more drunk?” 

_Fucking hell._ “No!” he yells, louder than he intended to. Shit, does Steve even _know_ what he’s doing to him? “God, Steve!” He takes his hands away from his eyes and yanks at the roots of his hair. “You say that, just like…I mean, are you even going to remember this conversation tomorrow?” He grapples with the words. His brain feels fuzzy, filled with all of the noise of that blood rushing through it. Suddenly he can’t stand still, and paces across the small patio and back. “Do you even _know_ what you do to me?” 

Steve is oddly calm through Bucky’s tirade. On his second trip back across the patio, he grabs Bucky by both his wrists to stop him. “Buck, stop. It’ll be good, I promise,” he claims, and his grip is firm. His eyes are _so_ serious, so honestly pleading. There’s no glassiness to them, no sign that he’s so drunk, he’s beyond reason. Bucky stares deeply into those eyes, trying to discern the truth of all this. 

Can it be? He can have the one thing he wanted above all? He has to know for sure. Breaking Steve’s grip, he puts his hands on his chest and pushes him back against the brick next to the sliding glass doors. Steve makes some sort of soft sound, but doesn’t fight him.

“Say it again,” he demands.

Steve hesitates just for a second, like he’s not sure what part Bucky wanted to hear. “You mean that I love you?” His hands find Bucky’s hips, clutching at him in a way that can only be associated with desire. It’s been _so long_ since he touched him that way. The allure of those hand touching him is even more powerful than he remembers it to be. Under his own palms Bucky can feel the strong muscles of Steve’s chest, and how quickly it rises and falls under them. He’s breathing hard, too. Something inside Bucky tightens like a coil. He wants…he wants more of _this_ , more of their bodies pressed together. More of them telling each other intimate things, things that change everything. 

But what if…what if he’s wrong, and Steve’s really just drunk off his ass? What if he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying? God, what if tomorrow he treats Bucky like he’s a friend again, and a friend only? He can’t take that. He can’t. The pain would tear him apart. Damnit, he was trying to move on, move forward, and now this? He leans in and presses his forehead to Steve’s. 

“Goddamnit,” he moans, “Why are you making this so hard? You’re making this so _hard._ ” Does Steve not even understand that? “I’ve missed you so much, but I can’t…” He pauses and slides his shaking hands up from Steve’s chest to cup his face. That beautiful face. Is it telling him the truth? Steve sways on his feet but Bucky moves with him in tandem, not breaking contact. He can’t let him go. 

Steve’s eyes are closed when he breathes in a low voice, “Why is it hard for you, Buck? I’m the one who lost you.” He shakes his head against Bucky’s. “It’s hard for me, not you.” 

And the world tilts on its axis. Steve thinks he’s the one who lost Bucky? Steve _wants_ him? Their bodies are so close. He can feel Steve’s heat, penetrating him at every level. He needs this so badly…

“Steve, I wish I could know you mean this. You don’t know…you don’t know what it’s been like. How I’ve ached for you,” he confesses, voice cracking. He can’t help it…the words just bleed out of him all at once. 

Warm hands slide upward over his body as Steve caresses him, then holds him at his hips again. It feels so good it almost brings tears to Bucky’s eyes. 

“I know it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve touched me,” Steve whispers. His mouth is only centimeters away from Bucky’s. “Kiss me,” he says softly. “Kiss me, Buck. I need you so much.”

Oh my God. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. Steve’s hands are on him. Steve’s mouth is so close…he wants to taste him again, kiss until he can’t remember anything else in the world except what it feels like to be joined with him. He slides his hands around to the back of Steve’s head, breathing quick, shallow breaths into his open mouth, trembling all over. 

“Please.”

It’s a whisper, but it’s all it takes to spur Bucky into more motion. He closes the short distance between their mouths and claims Steve’s in a fiery, hot kiss, crushing their bodies together. Steve opens his mouth immediately, letting him in, thrusting his tongue into Bucky’s mouth savagely. 

It’s erotic as hell. 

They’re all over each other, panting and grabbing at each other like two lovers separated by years rather than weeks. Bucky doesn’t realize how hard he’s pushing Steve into the wall behind them until he feels the brick digging into his own palms, on either side of Steve’s head. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s everything he ever wanted. He and Steve can be together, finally…

In that moment, he feels ecstasy like he’s never known…and terror like he couldn’t imagine. Fear makes every hair on his body stand on end…fear of losing everything, just like he did before. Fear that Steve will hurt him. Fear that if he ends up alone again, he won’t know how to survive it. 

It’s a funny thing, fear. You just can’t predict how potent it can be, how it can instantly trigger that fight or flight mechanism that’s wired into every human being. Bucky certainly never saw it coming… and then it slammed into him like its own brick wall. There is a certain amount of safety in wanting something you know you can never have. It removes the terror aspect. Now with Steve’s admission, that safety net had been removed… so there’s nothing to stop the fright, nothing to stop the panic from taking over. He pulls back and stares, speechless and petrified. At Steve, who doesn’t yet realize this is the most scared Bucky has ever been in his life. 

Steve looks at him with sorrow in his blue eyes and asks plaintively, “Bucky, why did you leave me?”

It’s like daggers going right into his heart. _He_ did this. Bucky did this to both of them. How could he? Why…why…he touches Steve’s lips, so soft, so perfect. He can’t…“Steve,” he says, voice breaking, “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have…I don’t know if I can do this…” 

He pulls out of Steve’s arms, pulls away from the one man who could give him everything, and the one man who could take it all away. He turns and disappears into the darkness of the night.

“Bucky!” he hears Steve shout, but he doesn’t stop. He runs across the courtyard, away from the man he loves…away from the man he’s too afraid to be with…


	15. Then Let's Get Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost over...Bucky and Steve finally let the truth out between them and get started on being together. But first, shower sex! :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back from ComicCon in Arizona, which was fabulous, but unfortunately both Karl Urban and Chris got sick before I had my chance at pictures with them. That was a heartbreaker. The realistic part of my brain said, "Suck it up, buttercup, they're just guys," but the fangirl part of my brain said, "But Chriiiiiiiiiiissssssssss!" Luckily I went with elves-n-angels and she cheered me up. Thanks peep! Sebastian is beautiful and so sweet, and Anthony Mackie is a stitch. And also quite mischievous!

Chapter Fifteen

Bucky has no plan when he bolts from Thor’s patio; when he reaches the entrance to their building, he quickly keys the code into the door lock, punching it in with sharp jabs of his index finger and glancing behind him to make sure he isn’t being followed. Once he gets into the building, though, he hesitates. He doesn’t want to go right to his apartment. Being in there alone would smother him. 

Instead he walks right across the lobby to the outside exit, pushes through the door there and takes off at a fast walk. When he hits the sidewalk he just keeps going, walking briskly around their quad in a square track. The darkness is punctured regularly by shots of light from the streetlamps. His footfalls echo in the quiet of the night. The walkers are all inside by this hour, so the sidewalk is deserted. Once in a while a car drives past, but otherwise Bucky paces the building as a solitary figure, alone with his thoughts.

And boy, does he have _thoughts_. His brain is churning them out like crazy, a jumbled mish-mash that makes no sense in one way and perfect sense in another. He’s on his fourth lap before he even starts to slow down. The pavement rises up to meet his feet in an endless pale, grey trail. The rhythm helps to ground him, though, helps to keep the sharp tide of panic from swallowing him up completely. 

Step after step, foot over foot. He keeps walking, staring at the dark, star-filled sky without even seeing it. He’s not here in the present, after all, not mentally. He’s in the past, remembering exactly how he felt the day he found out his boyfriend had been cheating on him, remembering how everything he thought to be true was just an empty lie, and the love he had offered up without reservation was thrown back in his face. Rejected. Worthless. 

It probably wasn’t fair to compare that asshole to Steve, since they were two completely different people. It probably wasn’t fair to compare the two relationships, either, but that didn’t stop it from happening inside Bucky’s head. He trusted his ex-boyfriend implicitly, and look where that got him. Now he’s supposed to trust Steve the same way? How can he? 

It’s impossible. 

What makes it even worse is that when he really analyzes his feelings, he keeps coming to the same awful conclusion. Being in love with Steve is _nothing_ like being in love with his ex. That’s great, yeah? Steve has always made him feel special, like he _matters_ , like he’s good enough just the way he is, and he doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. He never had that with his ex. He’s forced to wonder if he ever even really loved that bastard, or if he was simply in love with the idea of being in love. After the break-up, did he really miss the man he’d called his boyfriend for so long? Or did he just not want to be alone? Was he so insecure as a person that he had placed too much self-worth on being in a relationship? 

Bucky turns another corner and keeps trucking. The period after his break-up was the worst of his life…but it also spawned the most growth he’d ever experienced as an adult. He did realize, after a time, that he could make it on his own. He realized he had a lot to offer, that his life had value and meaning, even when he was alone, whether or not his ex thought so too. It wasn’t until now, until Steve, that he understood that being in love didn’t mean filling a hole in his life. It meant building on top of the good stuff that was already there. With his ex, that foundation was never really steady, so of course everything came toppling down on his head. 

With Steve, his love brings a warm, fulfilling sensation, a feeling of calm and satisfaction. As much as Bucky has tried to fight it, he knows now, no matter what happens, his feelings aren’t going to change. He’s always going to love Steve. There’s that great part; to most people, that would seem a fine thing. But in Bucky’s confused, turned-around brain, that’s disaster. Because as bad as his relationship with his ex was, it still crippled him when it was over. If it hurt him _that much_ to lose someone he never truly loved, how much is it going to hurt this time? How much would it destroy him to lose Steve? How can he go through each day, waiting for that bomb to drop? 

That’s the bad part. He can’t do it. It’s better to cut his losses now, take what’s left of his shattered heart and try to move on. 

Right? _Right_. Even if it hurts now, he’s sure he’s saving himself from further heartbreak down the road. His steps slow when he approaches the entrance to his building for the umpteenth time. He has no clue how many laps he’s done, but fatigue is starting to set in, so it must be a lot. He enters the building, peeking in through the glass door first to ensure the lobby is empty. It is, so he shoots inside and up the stairs in a flash. He doesn’t want to see anyone, doesn’t want to talk to anyone. 

Except Zeus, of course. When he gets back to the apartment, his dog is there with love and kisses to spare. After checking to make sure the coast is clear, he takes Zeus outside, then immediately goes to bed. Whether sleep actually occurs is another matter entirely. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t. The whole night. Despite being convinced he’s doing what he needs to do to protect himself, he tosses and turns all night long. Is it possible to have waking nightmares? Because he’s pretty sure he had some. 

At dawn, he gives up entirely on the idea of any sort of rest. He and Zeus go outside for a short walk, then come in for breakfast. Waffles with enough syrup to trigger a diabetic coma. After that he foolishly tries to lie down again, but with that much sugar coursing through his veins, even on the verge of exhaustion, sleep will not come. Zeus, on the other side of the coin, is flopped out next to him belly up, snoring peacefully. He envies his dog for such a stress-free living and gives him a few pets on his pink belly. Zeus’s eyelids crack open, and the tip of his tail quivers. 

“You’re a lucky dog, Zeus,” Bucky tells him soberly. 

He’s thinking about taking a shower when he remembers it’s Saturday, and Saturday morning means _basketball_. No fucking way. He snatches up his phone from the bedside table and types in a quick message to Thor, telling him he’s skipping today, that he’s too tired from not sleeping and NO, he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Thirty seconds later, his phone starts to vibrate with a call. Bucky picks it up to look at it, then immediately puts it back down and lets it go to voicemail. Thor. The phone is still for only a few seconds, however, when it starts vibrating again. Bucky rolls his eyes and wraps his pillow around his ears, trying to ignore Thor’s persistent calling. After the third episode of vibrating, he gives in and picks up. 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” he grumbles into the phone.

“Tough shit,” is Thor’s response. It is immediately followed by a knock at Bucky’s door. 

“Arrrgggghh! Goddamnit!” Bucky moans, mostly to Zeus. He doesn’t move from the bed until a text pops up on his cell phone next. 

_Open the fucking door. Your neighbors are sleeping, you know._

After the text comes through, there is another knock, louder this time. 

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, and rolls out of bed. He pads to the door in his bare feet, red plaid pajama bottoms and t-shirt. 

As soon as he opens the door, Thor comes rumbling in, and he doesn’t look particularly overjoyed to see his sleepy friend. He heads straight for the couch and plops down, already wearing his basketball attire. 

Bucky follows him, offering up a snarky comment on the way. “I suppose you’re here to lecture me.”

Thor shakes his head and purses his lips. “I’m not here to lecture you,” he claims, as Bucky pours himself into a chair, slouching down into it like he’s trying to hide. 

“Just tell me this…why’d you take off last night?”

Bucky feels his eyes bug out of his head. “Why did I…” _Jesus_ , is Thor that thick? “Look, Thor, I know you mean well, but even _if_ Steve meant what he said last night, I can’t chance another break-up like before. I just can’t. And it’s none of your business anyway.” He sits back, mouth drawn in a thin line. 

Thor stares at him, skepticism clearly etched onto his face. “When two of my friends are miserable, that _makes it_ my business. And you should know you can’t live for what _might_ or might not happen in the future. You have to live for what makes you happy _now_.”

“I’m happy,” Bucky says stubbornly, and Thor lets out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Bucky, you are the exact opposite of happy. Are you telling me in the last two weeks you’ve been _happy_ without Steve?” Eyebrows drawn upwards, he waits for Bucky to respond, but gets only stony silence. 

What does Thor know? I mean, sure, the last two weeks have been fucking hell, but Bucky’s doing what he’s got to do. 

Thor shifts on the leather couch. “Fine. Don’t answer that,” he says, then stands, towering over Bucky, who has slinked down as low as he can go in the chair without falling out of it. “But I’m telling you right now—if you let him go, you _will_ regret it for the rest of your life.” 

With that pronouncement, Thor takes off. Bucky is still for a moment. Several moments. He’s not ignoring what Thor said…he just doesn’t really know what to do with it. It literally feels like his head is full of a swarm of buzzing bees. There’s so much noise in there, he can’t make head nor tail of any of it. What should he do? Is Thor right? Will he regret it forever? He can’t deal with this right now. Maybe that hot shower will help clear his head. Slowly he pushes himself off the chair and shuffles his way into the bathroom. 

Letting the hot water run over his head and down his face feels good. He stays in there until his fingers start to prune, and even then he probably wouldn’t have come out if the hot water wasn’t disappearing. At one point, Zeus tromps in and lets out an insistent whine, sitting in front of the shower and looking at him. Bucky tries to peer at him through the foggy shower glass. He assumes his dog wants to play, or something like that, so he reassures him but doesn’t do anything else to address it. 

“It’s okay, Zeus, everything is fine,” he states, arching to let the hot water pound down over his back. 

A short time later Bucky has regretfully ended his massive shower and is in the bedroom putting on some clothes when Zeus returns, sitting in front of him and whining again. 

“What _is_ it, boy? Gotta go out?” Bucky pulls one leg of his jeans on. “Gimme a sec, and I’ll take you out, I promise.”

Zeus wags his tail and disappears. Probably staring out the patio door at some birds, or something. He pulls a t-shirt on over his head and stands, and that’s when he hears it. 

“Bucky?”

It’s Steve’s voice. Steve’s voice, sounding really close. Like, _inside his apartment_ close. He’s out of his bedroom like a shot, and when he emerges into the hallway, there he is. The blond-haired, blue-eyed, two hundred twenty pound heart-breaker, in the flesh.

“Steve?” he can’t hide the bewilderment in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Steve’s face is a study in concern. He points in the direction of the courtyard. 

“Thor told me how sick you were, and when you didn’t answer your door, I got worried, and…” his voice trails off as he stares. At Bucky. Who is clearly not sick. 

Bucky smells a rat. A big, six foot three, solid wall of muscle rat. “I’m not sick,” he informs Steve unnecessarily.

In a confused voice, Steve then asks, “Why didn’t you come down for basketball?” Or answer your door?” 

“I was in the shower. I told Thor I didn’t sleep last night and I wanted to be alone…and…” Bucky pauses. How the fuck did Steve get in here? His front door is locked. “How did you get in here?” _Motherfucker._ The sliding glass door. The one he sometimes forgets to lock. The one that leads to the balcony Clint sometimes scales from the first floor outside. 

“Uh…yeah…I came in through the balcony.” Steve points, sounding a little bit embarrassed that he snuck into Bucky’s place. 

Steve came here looking for him because he thought he was sick. He came here to _check_ on him, after everything that happened last night. Bucky can’t take that in at first. “You broke in here because you were worried about me?”

Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot nervously. “Uh…yeah. You left your door unlocked out here.”

Huh. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he got that idea. “Thor lied to get you in here,” Bucky guesses. 

Neither of them have moved from their spots, but Steve shuffles his feet again like he’s uncomfortable. He goes on the offensive, though, quick to pick up on Bucky’s words. “Yeah. Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

Oh. He overshared again. Steve’s eyes on him get to be too intense, so Bucky looks around the room randomly. What can he say? _I didn’t sleep all night because I freaked out on you and I still don’t know what to do about it._ Uhhh, no. Definitely no. He stumbles for words. 

“I…uh…you know, was thinking about stuff, couldn’t turn off my brain.”

That gets Steve to move. He takes a step toward him and asks, “About what stuff?”

Whoa there, partner. Panic starts to rear its ugly head, along with a lump in Bucky’s throat the size of a melon. He takes a step back, putting some distance between them again, but Steve isn’t having any of it. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he breathes. He takes several steps forward, getting dangerously close. “Don’t you shut me out,” he pleads, and his eyes are begging silently. “Talk to me.” 

Talk. Oh God. Sure, Steve, what do you want to talk about? _How about the fact that I’m a grown man, but I can’t seem to make a real relationship work, because I’m too afraid?_ Bucky stays silent, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing down, because he’s on the verge of passing out. 

Steve steps in even closer, filling the silence in the room. “Do you remember what I told you last night?” 

There it is. That scary thing he’s not sure he can talk about. He thinks he nods in Steve’s direction. “Do you? Do you remember what you said?” he asks, wanting to know the answer and not wanting to know. Because if Steve doesn’t remember, then that means he probably doesn’t love him. And if he remembers, that means Bucky has to tell him _again_ they can’t have a relationship. 

Steve nods. “Every word.” 

_Oh geezus fuck._ Bucky starts hyperventilating again. But just because he remembers, doesn’t mean it’s the truth. Could have been the beer talking. “And did you mean it?” he questions, holding his breath. 

“Of course I meant it!” Steve hisses at him, like he’s disappointed Bucky even had to ask, like he should have _known_ that already. But Bucky _didn’t_ know that. Steve _loves_ him! It’s miraculous! He should be _ecstatic_. He should be tap dancing, but instead he feels that prickly fear crawling up his back. What’s _wrong_ with him?

Steve goes on, but his voice is different. More unsure. “Why does that scare you?” he asks. Like _that’s_ not completely obvious!

Bucky tries to laugh, but it comes out like a sob instead. “Why does it scare me?” Come on, like he hasn’t figured that out? “Steve, you know what happened to me before. You know why it scares me.”

Steve’s head shakes insistently. “No I don’t. Because I’m not _him_. I’ll never be him.” 

Bucky’s mouth falls open. Yeah, he knows Steve isn’t him, because Steve isn’t a tremendous asshole. He knew that already. What he didn’t know was that Steve also wouldn’t _act_ like his ex-boyfriend. He feels heat rushing to his face. Steve won’t treat him like his ex. He can see that as plain as day, with the man standing here in front of him. How come he didn’t see that before? Why didn’t he make that connection? Thor’s words spring into his head. _You can’t live for what might or might not happen._ Why was he treating another break-up like an unavoidable occurrence, like the future was set in stone already?

In a voice as shaky as Bucky feels, Steve continues. “Bucky…I love you. I want you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. I’ve never wanted that with anyone else, but I want it with you.” Those blue eyes hold his, not letting him look away this time. “I can’t think of anyone else but you,” he declares. “Tell me you love me. Tell me you want me.”

Yes. _Yes yes yes._ Suddenly the dark cloud over his head shifts a bit, and Bucky sees what he couldn’t see earlier, when he was too petrified to think of anything but his own woes. Steve loves him, and wants him, and tried to tell him so last night…

…and what did Bucky do? He _ran._ Like a _coward_. What a douchey thing to do. He left Steve all alone. The heat that had been rising in his cheeks now hits him like a wall of fire. _Shame._ That’s what he feels. Steve risked everything to tell him his feelings. Whether or not the alcohol loosened his tongue matters not. He was courageous enough to tell Bucky the truth, and got treated like dirt for it.

And yet, here he is, staring at Bucky like he’s actually afraid Bucky doesn’t love him back. Because he didn’t know, either. They both didn’t know, and Steve spent the whole night thinking Bucky doesn’t care for him. But Steve still _came back for him_. And if Steve is brave enough to do that, then Bucky can be brave enough to let go of all his fear, all his uncertainty. As long as Steve wants him, Steve can have him. His emotion gets the best of him and he chokes up…when he opens his mouth to tell him, a wracking sob is the first thing to come out. A sob for his Steve. His brave, beautiful Steve. 

“Of course I love you,” he finally bursts out. “You’re the only one I want. The only one who matters. I love you and it scared me to death, how much I love you.” He’s got to make him understand, understand why he did it. “I panicked. That’s why I called it off,” he admits, sadly but honestly. “But I thought I was the only one being hurt, that you didn’t want any commitments. And then last night…when you said all those things, and I thought there was a real chance for us…I was even more petrified.” He rushes through, trying to get it all out into the open, where the light can help dissolve all of his doubt. “I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you, God I _wanted_ it, but I was scared, either that you didn’t mean it, or that I couldn’t do it.” 

Steve had started forward, but stops when he hears those words. “Couldn’t do what?” he asks.

Bucky pauses…Steve hasn’t figured it out yet. He doesn’t know what a chickenshit Bucky was. And it strikes him that maybe…maybe when he _does_ figure it out…maybe he won’t be able to forgive and forget so easily. Bucky _hurt_ him, whether he meant to or not. What if Steve decides he’s more trouble than he’s worth? That if Bucky is so gun-shy of commitment, he’s not really worth it after all? And then this is really the end? The words won’t come then, not right away. He’s been such a colossal idiot. They’ve both been idiots, but the magnitude of Bucky’s idiocy is much greater, in his opinion. He stares at Steve silently, so long that Steve begs him to talk.

“Please say something.”

Bucky’s mouth is so dry, he can hardly speak. He flicks his tongue over his lips. “Couldn’t let go,” he whispers. “Couldn’t let go of what happened before. Couldn’t let myself trust you.”

This is it. Will Steve have had enough, turn and walk out? Will he be able to understand why Bucky did what he did? Why he broke it off in the first place? Why he left last night?

“Please, Bucky. I need you to tell me you can let go of the past.” 

Bucky almost collapses where he stands. Steve doesn’t even care why; it’s not even on his radar. There’s no hesitation in his voice at all, no recriminations, because of course, it’s _Steve_. Because he isn’t petty, or small. He can see past Bucky’s faults, love him anyway, and still be worried about whether or not _Bucky_ can get over his own history. Whatever he did to deserve someone like Steve, he’s going to take full advantage of it, starting right now.

“Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes are on the floor, so Bucky waits for him to bring his eyes back up before continuing. “I didn’t sleep all night, thinking about you. How much I need you. And I know now, I can let go of everything else. For you I can. Because I want you, only you.” 

He closes the remaining distance between them. They’ve been apart long enough. He has to feel him, touch him. Sliding his hands up to Steve’s shoulders, he leans in and kisses him, softly, slowly, thankful above all else that he even has this second chance. “I love you,” he says, meaning it with all his heart. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” Truly, he never meant for that to happen. He touches Steve’s face, his hair, still applying soft kisses everywhere, trying to make up for all the injury he unknowingly inflicted. “Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

And Steve _knows_. He takes Bucky in his arms and kisses him back, just as slowly, just as sweetly. He touches his lips to Bucky’s cheeks, his face, everywhere he can reach. They explore each other like it’s the first time they’ve ever done so, holding each other, kissing with gentle mouths and contented souls. When Steve’s thumbs rub across his cheekbones and he tells him, “I love you,” Bucky can hardly contain the smile on his face. 

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Steve says lightly, but his eyes show the depth of his words. 

Wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, Bucky agrees. “I’m yours,” he tells him. “For as long as you want me.” 

He honestly can’t believe this is happening. The rest of his life, he can spend with Steve. After everything they’ve been through. So much turmoil, so much _misunderstanding_ , so much of them both pussyfooting around the truth. And yet here they are, together again, as they should be. Happy endings don’t get any happier than this, in Bucky’s opinion. He leans in to kiss his love again, still with affection but also with more heat. Having Steve in his arms is titillating in more than one way, and they’ve got plenty of time now to explore all of those ways. 

He’s been miserable without Steve these last couple of weeks, and now that they can do whatever they want together, the first item on his agenda is…not playing basketball. 

He grabs Steve’s hand and gives it a tug. “Come on,” he beckons, moving in the direction of the bedroom.

Steve starts to follow, but then changes his mind and stops. “No, wait,” he says, instead pulling Bucky in the direction of his balcony. 

_Oh yeah._ Guys are out there who will probably want to know what’s happening. He allows Steve to lead him outside, ready to share the news.

\--

It’s some time later…okay, a lot of time later that the pair get around to more conversation, mostly because Bucky has thought of something he wants to ask. After a romp in the bed, some cuddling and canoodling that led to another romp in the bed, and more cuddling, he turns onto his belly, puts one arm on Steve’s chest and rests his chin on it like a little perch. One of his legs is draped comfortably across Steve’s. 

“Steve,” he says, and the blond looks down at him inquisitively. “When…when did you know you wanted to be more than just friends?” He’s watching Steve’s face, so he detects the slight but tell-tale pink blush that creeps into his cheeks. Steve drops one arm down from where it lay on the pillow behind his head and puts his hand on Bucky’s forearm, rubbing it softly with his thumb.

“From the very beginning,” he admits candidly, and Bucky’s eyes widen slightly.

“What?” he gasps. The beginning? But… “But you agreed to friends with benefits.” It’s both a statement and a question. 

He receives a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well, I figured that was better than nothing. I just wanted to be near you.”

Bucky’s guts feel squirmy and then melt into something warm and gooey. “You did?”

“I did.” Steve smiles again warmly. “Buck,” he adds in a tender tone, “I think somehow I knew you were the one on the day I met you.” 

Lifting his head, Bucky kisses the back of Steve’s hand where it rests on his forearm. “Wish you had told me that sooner, babe.”

Steve sighs a little. “I know. Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

At that, Bucky gives a short laugh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, either.” He shakes his head from side to side, chin still on his arm. So Steve was interested from the _start_. Interest is one thing, though, and love quite another. “But when did you actually know you were in love?” 

Taking hold of both of Bucky’s shoulders, Steve draws him up toward him; Bucky obligingly scoots up, putting one elbow on the pillow next to Steve’s ear and propping up his head with that hand. The other hand snakes its way over Steve’s chest. Steve finds his free hand and laces their fingers together, resting both their hands on his broad chest. 

“You remember when we spent the whole night together?”

He waits for Bucky to nod, then nods as well. “I knew then.”

Love, warm and all-encompassing, sneaks its way into Bucky’s heart, along with a generous helping of regret. “That’s when I realized I loved you, too,” he confesses. Steve draws his eyebrows together, but before he can ask the question, Bucky goes on. “It’s also when I freaked the fuck out.”

Steve’s face clears. “Oh,” he declares simply. “That’s why you were acting so weird that morning.”

“Yeah.” 

Steve’s eyes have wandered down in the vicinity of Bucky’s chin, so Bucky gives his hand a squeeze to get him to look back up. “I’m sorry,” he admits.

Boy, is he sorry. If only they had both been honest with each other!

A small smile chases Steve’s lips. He picks up his head from the pillow to give Bucky a kiss. “It doesn’t matter now. So we were both being stupid, so what?” He shrugs. “We’re together now.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and his smile is full. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Steve’s mouth then stretches into a wide yawn. “Didn’t you promise me a shower earlier?” he teases, eyes twinkling. They haven’t been out of bed in hours. 

Bucky feigns innocence. “Why, is yours broken?” 

Chuckling, Steve plays along. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, it is. Mind if I use yours?”

“Not at all.” Bucky shifts and pushes himself up into sitting. “On one condition.”

Steve looks up at him. “And what’s that?”

Trailing his fingers over one of Steve’s firm pecs, down the midline of his chest and over his chiseled abdominals, Bucky makes his demand. “You share it with me.”

A slow, devious smile spreads across Steve’s face. “You already had a shower this morning,” he jokes back. “You need another?”

Eyes on the acres of smooth skin spread out below him, Bucky nods. “I absolutely need another. I’m _filthy_.”

Steve’s not hard, but his cock gives a decided twitch of interest when Bucky’s fingers reach the lower part of his belly and rub in slow circles there. It makes Bucky smile in response. 

“That okay with you?” he checks.

“More than okay,” Steve breathes. “Bring the lube.” 

He pushes up into a sitting position next to Bucky and leans in, planting a kiss on his lips that lingers and turns into a deep, open-mouthed affair. Bucky sinks into it, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Steve’s tongue dances across his, along with their hands reaching for each other’s bodies. Bucky’s got Steve around his trim waist, while Steve went high, slipping his hands up both sides of Bucky’s neck to cup his face as they continue kissing. 

Bucky’s not sure of Steve’s arousal level, but his own is increasing exponentially the longer this keeps up. The feeling of Steve’s hands on his face, on his body, gives him intense pleasure, but so does the feeling it gives him on the inside. Steve is _his_. Steve _wants_ him. Forever! It’s his dream come true.

He pulls back enough to murmur, “Come on,” and eases himself over to the side of the bed, untangling himself from the sheets and leading the way to the bathroom. When he reaches the hallway with Steve right behind him, he takes a few extra steps down and peeks into the living room. Zeus, who had abandoned them long ago when the bed was rocking and shaking too much for his comfort level, lies sleeping on the couch. He picks up his head and looks at Bucky but doesn’t jump down, so Bucky automatically knows that means he doesn’t have to go outside right now. 

“It’s okay, Zeus,” he whispers, and the dark head lowers to the couch cushion. 

Wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind, Steve puts his chin on his shoulder. “He okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky assures him and spins around, still inside the circle of his arms. “He’s fine for a while.”

“Oh, good,” Steve answers. “Because we’re going to be a while.” He walks backward, taking Bucky with him back down the way they came. 

Bucky slings his arms around his neck and kisses him again. Leisurely they smooch their way into the bathroom and to the stand-up shower. 

“We forgot the lube,” Steve mumbles around Bucky’s mouth, but Bucky shakes his head as he leans down and turns on the water, then steps in and makes room for another body next to him.

“No, we didn’t.”

As Steve joins him in the shower stall, his mouth curves into a wicked grin at the pert reply. “You’ve already got some in here?”

“A man’s got needs.”

Steve gapes at him momentarily then pushes him back against the tile wall, hands on his chest, and kisses him, hard and fast on the mouth, moaning when their tongues meet. Apparently he likes the idea that Bucky had been pleasuring himself in the shower, most likely thinking about Steve the entire time. Bucky feels himself harden in response to the kiss and reaches around, clutching at the firm globes of Steve’s backside to pull him closer, close enough to bring their blossoming erections into contact with each other. _Oh yeah._ Slowly he grinds his hips, giving them both a taste of the friction they want and need. 

“Oh God, Buck!” Steve groans and puts both his hands on the wall above Bucky’s shoulders, content to let him set the pace. 

Dropping his head, Bucky attacks one side of his neck, kissing and nipping at it lightly with his teeth. He tastes slightly salty from them working up a sweat in the bedroom, but also just like _Steve._ His hands cup the fullest part of his butt cheeks, grasping the strong muscle there and holding him close. The bathroom starts to steam up right away, but neither of them pay much attention to the hot water beating down on them. Steve’s head is back, his breathing loud and heavy as he lets Bucky have his way with him. His cock is thick and hard as Bucky rocks his hips over and over, thrusting his own hard length against it. 

He knows he’s leaking generously from the tip, and brings one hand around to curl his fingers and palm around both their shafts, holding them flush and providing another source of friction as he drives his hips forward and back. It’s fucking amazing, and he can’t help moaning into Steve’s shoulder with his open mouth. Steve’s masculine scent fills the steamy air around him. He licks and kisses his way back up to his mouth, capturing his lips and pushing his tongue inside that hot, soft cavern. 

Their mouths and bodies are burning and searing with desire. Steve’s hands leave the wall and grasp at Bucky’s hair, slicked back against his head. He digs his fingers in, kissing him furiously. It’s difficult for Bucky to concentrate both on kissing and on keeping up his pace, grinding his pelvis against Steve’s. He gets lost in the delicious sensations being generated deep in his core and spreading slowly though his midsection. His slow moan gets swallowed up inside Steve’s mouth; it’s so erotic, he’s close to coming all over Steve’s belly already. Just a little more…a few more handfuls of Steve’s ramrod straight cock, gliding in and out of his palm, sliding wetly against his own cock, and he’s a goner. 

That’s not what Steve has in mind, though, because he breaks off their kiss to whisper into Bucky’s ear, “Show me what you do in the shower.”

When he pulls his head away to look at Bucky, his blue eyes are full of fire. Ignoring the throbbing effect his words have on his cock, Bucky nods and lets go of his ass to grab for the lube on the soap tray. He slicks up his other fingers and reaches around himself, bending slightly and letting his forehead rest on Steve’s chest. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulder blades and lets him settle against his solid body.

“Show me,” he whispers, his voice thick with longing. 

With their bedroom activity still so recent, it’s fairly easy for Bucky to breach himself, sliding one, then two fingers in. He pumps them in and out immediately, closing his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the pleasure not just of his own fingers moving in and out of his body, but also of knowing that Steve wants to watch, wants to share the experience with him. Thinking about Steve getting more stimulated just by watching him makes Bucky’s arousal even more potent. He crooks his fingers and finds that spot, the spot deep inside him that makes his body sing.

His eyes pop open and he gasps when he finds it, brushing his fingers over it, then notices the hard and pebbled nipple just at his eye level. He licks at it, loving how the hardened flesh feels against his tongue and also loving the wretched moan that the act elicits from Steve. The needy, throaty sound echoes loudly in the confines of the shower stall. He takes the nipple into his mouth fully then, sucking at it as he thrusts his fingers in and out of his own body. 

“Buck! Ohhhh, yes!” Steve calls out, grabbing at his head, and Bucky’s only regret is he can’t see what he guesses must be a rapturous look on his face. 

Steve’s hands are in his hair, holding his head to his nipple, but Bucky only gets a few more sucks in before his partner has a new request. He pulls Bucky’s face up to his and kisses him, then keeps their mouths close together as he says, “Now do it to me.”

Does he mean…? Bucky looks back at him, breathing hard, excitement building. Steve nods as if to confirm his intent.

“Fuck me with your fingers, baby.” 

He turns around, putting his face to the tile wall and bending over, exposing himself to his lover. _Oh fuck yes._ Bucky’s cock is screaming its approval here. Bucky wouldn’t have minded Steve burying himself inside him, but he also won’t complain about the opposite. Quickly he snags the soap and cleans off his fingers, then re-applies some lube. Using his free hand he runs his fingertips up the slick, wet surface of Steve’s expansive back, appreciating all of its planes and angles. He lays a line of kisses down at the center, right between the shoulder blades, and slides his other fingers in between the cheeks of his ass to search for Steve’s tight opening. 

Rubbing his middle finger over it lightly, he asks, “Ready, baby?” and waits while Steve’s head bobs and his hands on the wall tighten into fists.

“Yes. Please, yes,” he breathes shallowly, and pushes back against Bucky’s finger. 

_Goddamn, Steve._ No one has ever known how to turn him on as much as Steve does. Him begging for it is pushing a whole lot of Bucky’s buttons, so he doesn’t waste any more time. He pushes a finger in, reveling in the way Steve’s body takes him in. He gives him time to adjust to the intrusion, kissing his back and running one hand up and down his flank, before adding a second finger. Once Steve has loosened up enough, he presses his digits in and out, that soft heat spurring him on. 

“You feel fantastic,” he murmurs, and curls his fingers just so.

Every muscle of Steve’s back tenses up when Bucky hits that bundle of nerve fibers and thrums over it like he’s playing a guitar.

“Oh!” Steve cries out, his fists clasping and unclasping, still up on the wall over his head. 

Bucky strokes him over and over, his arousal level spiking so high, he’s getting close to coming, untouched. It’s more rewarding than he ever thought possible, doing this to Steve, making him come undone. Steve’s body starts to quiver with need. 

“Bucky!” he cries out again, voice as shaky as his body. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Bucky purrs back. He’d been hoping desperately to wring those words out of his love. He works in a third finger and stretches Steve a bit more before removing all of them and slicking up his cock. It’s almost painful to touch himself, he’s so hard and overly stimulated. As soon as he slides into Steve’s body, it’s all worth it. A low groan bleeds out of his throat and mouth, barely audible over the sound of the shower water pounding down. 

“Oh shit!” he swears, pushing in further. It’s like all the air in his lungs gets punched right out of his chest. Steve’s channel is so hot, so tight, pressing in everywhere around him. He grasps Steve’s hips, feeling the bony prominences jut out against his fingers, and begins pushing in and out rhythmically, driving deeper and deeper with every pass. Soon he’s fully embedded himself, and both of them are breathing like they’ve just run marathons. It’s then Bucky realizes both of Steve’s hands are still on the wall. 

“Steve,” he says through a ragged breath, “Jerk off for me.” 

He wants Steve to come with him, to scream out his ecstasy right in time with Bucky’s. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Steve hasn’t moved yet, aside from his back heaving up and down as he pants. 

His head then turns and he says over his shoulder, “What, baby?”

A fleeting smile crosses Bucky’s face. “I said, jerk yourself off. Want you to come, too,” and he rams his cock in again, deeply and swiftly.

“Uhhhhh,” is Steve’s only response, but he obediently drops his hand, and Bucky can see his arm move as he starts to palm himself. 

Bucky keeps up his barrage, fucking into him with long, penetrating strokes, letting the heat and tingling sensation crescendo inside himself. It builds into a powerful wave, and then another, and another. God, he’s so close. His skin is so sensitive, the water droplets feel like needles hitting him. He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes, now envisioning Steve shooting off pearly white ropes of fluid, his thick cock purpled and swollen in his hand. He can almost taste him on his tongue, and it turns that wave of heat into a tsunami. His strokes are then shorter pulses, no less pleasurable but more directed. Lightning bolts tear through his limbs in equally short, violent bursts, starting in his groin and moving outward. 

His orgasm rips through him and he cries out, digging his fingers into the crests of Steve’s hips and gyrating wildly against him. Steve joins him, moaning and pushing back hard against his pelvis, trying to force him to go deeper. There is no deeper, though, because he’s already taken all of Bucky’s cock, beautifully. Bucky can’t see it, but he knows Steve is making a mess all over the wall in front of him. Steve’s back arches and a satisfied grunt emanates from him, his arm moving quickly in front of him. 

It seems to last forever, or maybe time just stops, before they both shudder through the last, perfect dregs of their orgasms. Bucky leans heavily against Steve’s back and gently plants his lips on his neck. 

“How ya feeling?” he asks brightly, palms and one cheek of his face resting on his upper back. 

“Like I need another shower to cool off!” Steve wheezes.

“Well that’s perfect,” Bucky counters. “Cuz we’re probably gonna run out of hot water in a minute.”

Steve just laughs, jostling Bucky’s face against him, and turns, grabbing for the soap. “Then let’s get started.”


	16. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tying up loose ends. Sex. You know, the basics. :-)

Chapter Sixteen

Five Months Later

Steve and Bucky both saw it coming. From a mile away. It had been brewing for some time, or so Bucky suspected.

That didn’t mean it still wasn’t really freaking cute when it did finally happen. 

The day of the convention had arrived. Bucky, Darcy, and Clint couldn’t contain their excitement, of course, sending text upon text to each other as the day approached. Steve, on the other hand, was basically along for the ride, but Bucky was really okay with that. Sort of okay with that. Oh, alright, if you _really_ pressed him, he would admit he secretly was hoping Steve would suddenly develop a taste for sci-fi and be able to share in his joy a wee bit more than he did right now, but that was just wishful thinking. Steve was there strictly for companionship and that was what was important. After all, they shared so much of their lives together already that it wasn’t a big deal for them not to share _everything_. But Bucky wouldn’t have minded if they did.

So he and his hunky beau went over to their old apartment building first to pick up Clint, then drove to Darcy’s place to collect her. Even though it was cold, they didn’t wear coats because who wanted to carry around a bulky jacket all day long when you were indoors? Out of politeness they all got out of Steve’s Land Rover and stepped up to Darcy’s door to wait for her to come down, shivering and stomping their feet in place. 

“Who’s idea was it not to wear coats?” Steve whined playfully, and Bucky swatted his butt. 

They all wore jeans and long sleeved shirts. Bucky was glad he’d put on flannel over the top of his Star Wars t-shirt. None of the guys were dressing up today but Bucky knew Darcy was going to cosplay, and fully supported her efforts. He’d seen her outfit before—a long, flowing crushed velvet gown in an evergreen color with long, silk sleeves like princesses always wore. It was a great get-up and of course he knew by the hairstyle she wore with it who she was emulating. He couldn’t resist teasing her, though, about her lack of authenticity at the last convention they went to—she had refused to wear the pointy ears because they were itchy.

Still, she looked beautiful when she floated across the apartment building’s lobby and pushed open the door. Her hair was done up in intricate braids, dark and shiny, and looked spectacular. Bucky and Steve both told her so, in fact. She beamed her appreciation at them and then turned to greet Clint. 

“Hey Clint, what up?”

That was when it happened. 

Clint stared, eyes popping out of his head, mouth open. He didn’t even speak. It was as if he’d instantaneously gone deaf and mute. 

Steve started to giggle and Bucky gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs, then looked at him meaningfully. The clues had all been there even though Clint and Darcy never straight up admitted they were attracted to each other. Steve and Bucky had discussed at length whether they needed to club Clint over the head to get him to ask her out, or whether they should be patient and let nature take its course. Looked like nature finally caught up. Steve nodded at Bucky, bit his lip to stop his giggles, and inclined his pretty head toward Darcy, who was waving a hand in front of Clint’s face to see if he would blink. 

“Clint!” she hollered at him. “You in there?” She turned to her other two companions. “What did you do to him?” she said in a tone of wonder.

Clint made a partial recovery at that point, stuttering out some words and blushing furiously. “Uh…um, er….you look…you look great, Darce. Really great.” 

She gave him a brilliant smile and took his arm, then looked at Bucky and lifted both her eyebrows at him as if to say, _shall we?_ Bucky grinned back and lifted one hand in the direction of the car. The pair of them stepped off, leading the way while Steve and Bucky followed behind, trading looks. Steve leaned in and whispered in his ear, “’Bout fucking time,” to which Bucky responded, “Amen to that!”

Then it was off to the Comic Con, which they all enjoyed, even Steve in his own way, which mostly consisted of him holding Bucky’s hand and laughing at how enthusiastic he was about exhibits, and panels, and merchandise. It was crowded at the convention hall, and the seller’s stalls were really too close together so you had to navigate your way carefully in and out of them, and the food was only so-so, but you didn’t go to Cons for the food anyway. You went for the _stuff_. For the _people_. For the _experience._ Fuck, Cons were great! And the fact that by the end of the day, Darcy and Clint were holding hands, too? Also great. 

\--

Six Months Later

“Can you see them?”

Steve cranes his head and looks out the window over the sink, right and left, then right again, eyes sweeping across the visible portion of the back yard. His blond head shakes and he looks back at Bucky, who is seated on a padded, round barstool at the kitchen island behind him. Through the window Bucky can see snowflakes swirling around outside the house, but the room they occupy is warm and toasty.

The kitchen has white cabinetry, because that’s what Steve asked for, with stainless steel appliances and a glass tile mosaic backsplash that at first glance looks silvery, but in reality throws every color of the rainbow at you, depending on the angle you stand at. Steve says it’s his favorite room in the house, which really was the goal for Bucky, since his boyfriend enjoys cooking more than he does. He wanted to make it as perfect for him as he could. 

“Nope, not at all,” Steve tosses over his shoulder. A dazzling white smile flashes across his face, contrasting with the darker hair of the beard he now sports. The beard Bucky thought he wouldn’t like, but now doesn’t want to live without.

“Wanna take bets?” 

Bucky sags and groans. “You know they’re trying to get on top of the wood pile again. Your dog is relentless when it comes to those squirrels.”

Steve’s laughter is rich and full, bringing a matching smile to Bucky’s face. He knew that would get him. 

“Whaddya mean, _my dog_?” Steve sets down the knife he’d been using to chop carrots with and spins, resting his fantastic ass against the sink. He’s wearing jeans and a snug fitting, dark red Henley top that reminds Bucky of molten lava. Kinda the same temperature his blood reaches when he looks at Steve’s chest encased in that form-hugging shirt. 

Steve’s left eyebrow quirks upward. “Funny how he’s _my_ dog when you think he’s being bad.”

“Which is _most of the time,_ ” Bucky teases, but his eyes are full of mirth. He slides off his stool, steps briskly to the back door and opens it up, yelling through the screen door out into the cold wind, “Zeus! Apollo! Come on, boys!”

Ten seconds later and with the screen door opened as well, two small weiner dogs trot into the kitchen from the left side of the yard, white snow dusted across their backs. They leave wet tracks across the wood planked floor as they pad across it, both going to sit down on the floor rug at Steve’s feet.

_Wood pile. I knew it,_ Bucky thinks with a shiver, closing the door behind them. “I win the bet,” he announces, and Steve makes a face. 

“We didn’t actually bet anything!” 

Bucky returns to his barstool. “Yeah, but I was right, so you owe me later.”

“I don’t think you understand how betting works, Buck,” Steve says dryly, and squats down to the floor, rubbing first Zeus’s ears, then Apollo’s. Apollo puts his wet front paws on Steve’s knees, making a pathetic whining sound and trying to climb up onto him for more pets. 

“See?” Bucky insists, ignoring Steve’s comment as he rips a chunk of iceberg lettuce off the head he was shredding. “Your dog. Anyway, he follows you around like you’re the only human being on the planet who matters.”

That part was true enough. The little red dachshund had taken to Steve since the day they brought him home, shadowing him everywhere he went. Not that Bucky blamed him. Personally, he would follow Steve anywhere and everywhere. And it’s not that Bucky got ignored, but the preference was definitely noticeable. Apollo didn’t only connect with Steve, though. He and Zeus had been inseparable since they were introduced, an immediate pack with Zeus at the head. Bucky’s dog had been just as happy to get a playmate as Apollo was to find a home. The pair played together daily, slept curled up in little balls next to each other, and patrolled the yard as a team, keeping their humans safe from birds, squirrels, bunnies, and any other would-be trespassers.

Steve disentangles himself from the tiny, smooth-haired dog and turns to wash his hands at the sink. His grumbled reply of, “Oh, come on,” is weak at best, as if he knows the argument is lost already. 

Bucky smiles triumphantly, watching his boyfriend’s backside wiggle as he rubs his hands under the soap dispenser. Broad shoulders narrow to slender hips and a butt you just have to see to believe. The way he fills out those jeans…God, he looks good, even better than when they first got together (if that’s possible). Darcy swore that Bucky had never looked happier and that it showed in his physical appearance; he hoped maybe that was true for Steve, too. 

What he knows for sure is that he loves Steve. More than anything else in this world. Absolutely everything about him. The cute way Steve’s short hair stands up on end when he wakes in the morning. How he grumbles about Bucky’s expensive taste in coffee but comes home from the grocery store with his favorite without fail. The fact that every time they kiss, that flutter of excitement and desire churns up his insides like an eggbeater turning out scrambled eggs.

It’s not everybody who gets to go to bed with Steve Rogers and wake with him every morning. It’s Bucky. So yeah, he reflects as he tears off another chunk of lettuce to put in the salad bowl, life is good. 

\--

It’s later on that evening, after it’s grown dark, dinner has been consumed, and Bucky’s TV show (the one Steve refuses to watch because it’s too “outer spacey”) is over that he finds his one and only up in their bedroom. The master is of a good size; in the daytime, the wide, tall windows let in a ton of natural light and provide excellent views of the tree-filled back yard. In the nighttime, the deep blue of twilight is uninterrupted. There are no neighbors behind them, just a wooded area. It might be Bucky’s favorite room in the house. After adding on the gas fireplace Steve wanted at the back wall, Bucky made sure there would be space for some armchairs and the doggy bed in front of it. The walls of the room are a relaxing sage color, the furniture and bedding deep earthy tones. 

Steve has his laptop computer with him and has plunked himself down on one of the two chairs in front of the fire. One lamp is turned on, over by their king-sized bed, so the room is somewhat dim and thrown in shadows. A red glow from the fireplace adds to the ambience. And surprise, surprise, Zeus and Apollo lie sleeping together in the other armchair. The dog bed, of course, is empty. Steve is occupied with whatever he’s working on with his computer and doesn’t hear Bucky enter the room, so he jumps when he hears his voice.

“I keep telling you, you’re going to go blind if you don’t turn some lights on. What are you, a vampire?”

After a visible full body muscle twitch, Steve looks up and smiles, closing up the screen. “It’s not like reading a book, Buck. The screen is lit.”

“Still not good for you.” 

Steve’s head rolls jokingly in a circle. “Oh, so you know what’s best for me, is that right?”

Bucky saunters over, takes the computer out of his hands and sets it down on the floor next to the chair. “Damn fucking straight I do,” he purrs, then straddles Steve’s waist, jamming one knee down on either side of his body and settling down in his lap. It’s a tight fit in the chair, since neither of them are exactly small men, but he makes it work. Steve’s arms instinctively go around him, hands clasping around his lower back. Bucky reaches around Steve’s neck, sliding both hands up over his collar bones to cup his jaw.

“I know _exactly_ what’s best for you, darlin’,” he growls, before pressing his mouth to Steve’s and nipping hungrily at his lower lip.

“Mmm,” Steve murmurs agreeably, angelic face turned up to Bucky’s. “Tell me more.” 

His hands slide down over the swell of Bucky’s ass and tug him more firmly onto his lap. 

“I can do more than tell you,” Bucky whispers into his ear, then drags his lower lip up the outside shell of it and kisses that spot just under his earlobe, the one that makes Steve start to pant almost immediately. At first, he really was unsure of that furry face; the most he’ll let his own scruff grow into is a neat stubble. Now that the beard has come in so beautifully though—seriously, Bucky has never seen a beard so perfect in every detail; it’s well-manicured and totally _not_ bushy, just _perfect_ —he can’t get enough of it. And a beard rubbing against certain parts of his own body, well, he could never have predicted how fucking awesome that would feel. 

You just had to be careful to avoid beard burn, that was all…he kisses down one side of Steve’s jaw, lifting his lips and placing them carefully in each new spot, making soft kissing sounds each time he moves. No burn. Steve’s intake of air hitches and his chest moves up and down more rapidly. 

“Show me, then,” he says breathily, tilting his head to the side in an encouraging motion. 

“Not so fast,” Bucky intones solemnly, fingertips brushing over the short whiskers on one side of his jaw. “Didn’t I say _you_ owed _me_?” He leans back to stare directly into Steve’s eyes, smiling wickedly.

Steve’s pupils seem to dilate as Bucky looks into them. “Then tell me what you want,” he returns seductively, and his fingers trace over the curves of Bucky’s ass with a pressure that’s more than suggestive.

Letting his hands fall from Steve’s neck down to the rock solid mounds of his pecs, Bucky rubs over them slowly. “I want your shirt _off_.”

It’s not _all_ he wants, of course, but it will do for starters. He stays back to give his partner some room; Steve crosses his arms in front of him and reaches down, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion and discarding it next to his computer. He sits back in the chair, laying both hands casually on the meat of Bucky’s thighs and eyeing him like he’s using x-ray vision to look right through his clothes. 

“That better?” he cocks his head to one side and Bucky nods slowly. Steve’s bare chest never fails to disappoint. It was almost unfair, how sexy the man was. How was Bucky supposed to be able to concentrate on anything else whenever Steve was around? 

“You’re fucking _gorgeous_ ,” he says bluntly, and runs his palms over Steve’s body as the other man smiles at the compliment. His skin is smooth, slightly warmed by the fire despite the coolness of the room’s temperature. But those _muscles_ … his chest and shoulders were so defined it made you just want to bite into them. Or at the very least, run your mouth over every single contour to map the entirety of his beauty, which Bucky had done many a time already. His fingers have just reached the rounded mass of Steve’s deltoids when he is interrupted.

“Your turn,” Steve says smoothly, eyes glittering in the light from the fire. There’s hardly any blue in them that Bucky can see, and he realizes his own pants are starting to feel tight, his half-hard cock wanting to make a move. Skin on skin is definitely part of his plan, so he strips off his shirt and tosses it. _Oh!_ It’s colder for him since he hasn’t been in front of the fire as long as Steve has, and his nipples contract into hard, perky nubs. 

Detecting them straight away, Steve grins slyly at him and leans forward. His warm hands sneak up Bucky’s sides and hold him while he licks at one nipple, eyes still on Bucky’s face. _FUCK._ That pink tongue, darting out of his mouth and moving wetly over his nipple makes Bucky’s blood start rushing south even more. Steve’s eyes drift shut, like tasting Bucky is the most erotic thing he could experience. His tongue drags in tight circles around the bud of skin before he takes it into his mouth completely and sucks, pulling off with a soft kiss. 

“You’re gorgeous, too,” Steve murmurs, opening his eyes and finding Bucky’s. “I want your body all to myself. I want _you_ all to myself, every damn day.” His head ducks inward, tongue and open mouth ghosting over the nipple he’d just sucked. They then move further up, over the plane of firm pectoral muscle and into the valley between his two collarbones. He buries his face there in Bucky’s throat, kissing and licking at the sensitive skin.

Bucky holds Steve’s head to him and groans wantonly. Steve’s answering “Mmmm,” reverberates against his Adam’s apple. His pants are not just tight, they’re cutting off his blood flow, or it feels like it anyway. Desire is making every cell in his body feel electrified. Everywhere Steve is touching him, his mouth, his hands, even where Bucky’s legs and butt rest on top of him, all tingle with tiny shockwaves that pulse back and forth in an endless loop. Now it’s his turn for his breath to shudder in his chest and his lungs to quicken their pace. 

Hot lips drift to one side of his neck as Steve plants kiss after kiss on his rapidly overheating skin, and the room doesn’t feel cold anymore. At all. Rather, it’s getting pretty fucking _hot_ in there. Steve is mouthing just under his jaw, the bristly hair of his beard tickling him but his lips and tongue devastatingly efficient, ratcheting up Bucky’s arousal level to just short of _about to die a fiery death_. 

He realizes he’s grabbing at Steve’s hair pretty hard and relaxes his fingers. “Sorry babe,” he mumbles, and one of Steve’s hands snakes up his back and stops between his shoulder blades. Steve takes a quick break from ravaging his neck to mumble, “’S’okay,”, then immediately attaches his lips to Bucky’s lower jaw again, kissing him with sizzling nips and bites. Bucky turns his face down to Steve’s and waits for him to make his way back to Bucky’s mouth, all the while eagerly anticipating the return of his tongue. 

His lips are parted when Steve finally meets them, and he moans desperately into Steve’s mouth when they kiss. It’s deep and slow and they taste each other like they’re both being served as dessert. Steve’s hands on his back pull him in closer, pressing their bodies together as much as he can, getting as much bare skin to touch bare skin as is possible. Bucky tries to sink down lower into the chair, lodging his knees somewhere behind Steve, down where the seat cushion meets the back of the chair, so that he can feel Steve’s chest against his. They’re both breathing heavily, so into each other they probably wouldn’t notice if the gas fireplace exploded next to them. 

Steve’s chest isn’t the only thing Bucky can feel, either. Bucky’s cock, so hard in his pants it’s worked its way up to a full erection in there, now rubs against Steve’s hip. If he rocks forward just right, he can feel Steve’s hard shaft press against one side of his belly. When he does so, Steve’s whimper is needy and _delicious_ as it fills his mouth. He kisses him even harder, shoving his tongue into his mouth and devouring him, and damn if his cock doesn’t feel like it’s going to catch fire and spontaneously combust soon. 

Slowly he thrusts himself against Steve’s hip, his cock catching on the hard jut of bone and giving him such amazing friction, it makes him shiver with want. Steve’s hands navigate their way down to the cheeks of Bucky’s ass, grabbing on and pulling him in, silently urging him to keep going. Bucky starts up a rhythm, rolling his pelvis forward and back. They keep kissing, too, deep and long stretches of making out, during which Bucky assumes he must be breathing, though he can’t recall actually taking any breaths. He runs his hands all over Steve’s body, touching and feeling him everywhere, though it still doesn’t seem like enough. 

Being with Steve is all-encompassing—does breathing even really matter? Doesn’t seem like it when he rubs his dick against Steve’s body and dry humps him like there will be no tomorrow. He’s got a pretty good pace going, energetic but not out of control yet, and his cock is very happy to be on the receiving end of such attention. It might just pop out of the waistband of his jeans, his excitement is _that_ pronounced. 

Not that that would be such a bad thing—at least it would get some fresh air. In its current state, he feels like it’s being smothered inside his jeans, trapped in a space that’s much too small, yearning for freedom. He digs in punishingly hard, reveling in the groan that comes straight from Steve’s throat. God, their cocks are _so_ hard. He’s got to start seriously addressing the fact that he’s going to come in his pants soon, if they don’t change positions. 

Problem is, this feels pretty fucking good right now, so Bucky’s not really predisposed to changing positions, and Steve doesn’t seem to be pressing for any alteration, either. He can’t really think of anything that could make him move from his spot. What could be even better than getting himself off by grinding against his boyfriend? 

_His boyfriend getting him off with his mouth._

The thought comes to him unbidden and in a flash. Steve does owe him, right? He doesn’t stop thrusting against Steve’s hip, but he does break off their kiss and hold Steve’s jaw in his hand as he communicates this new desire to him. Their lips are almost touching, almost still kissing as he breathes the words, “I want your mouth on my dick, baby.”

Steve stares into his eyes for .2 seconds before suddenly he’s moving. He lunges forward, using his upper body strength and his hands on the arms of the chair to propel them both up and out of it. Once he gets his footing, he lets go of the chair and wraps his arms around Bucky’s derriere, holding him up in the air. The pure strength required for the move is so stimulating, it almost makes Bucky orgasm right then and there. Bucky still straddles him, arms around Steve’s neck as they traverse the few feet between them and the bed, where he gets dumped unceremoniously down onto it just at the edge.

Before Bucky can even say anything else, Steve has dropped to his knees and worked Bucky’s jeans open. He’s got his thick shaft out of his pants and between his lips before Bucky could blink twice. One hand is wrapped around the base, and the head of his cock is inside Steve’s hot mouth, expertly being licked and sucked and _worshipped_. Bucky moans so loudly, both dogs pick their heads up and look at him in curiosity, dog tags around their necks jingling metallically. 

“Down boy,” Bucky says weakly, and leans back on his hands behind him on the bed to brace himself. Steve sort of chuckles, as best he can with Bucky’s cock filling his mouth, and swallows him deep. _Fuck_. Bucky looks down at the back of Steve’s blond head as it starts to bob. _Fuck fuck fuck_. He’s so fucking hard, and aroused, and Jesus, Steve’s lips are so tight around his cock as he goes down and pulls back off rhythmically, it’s difficult not to scream. 

Pressing his lips together and dropping his head back to the ceiling, Bucky silently works on that not-screaming thing. Steve’s tongue is doing obscene things to the side of his shaft, and the hand around his base moves up and down in time with his mouth. Bucky’s abdominal muscles quiver with need and anticipation. As he watches Steve suck his dick with long, wet strokes, more moans are forced from his kiss-swollen lips. Steve gives the best damn blow-jobs, and Bucky’s never been able to hold out long once he gets his mouth on him. This time is no different. He can feel his balls tightening up and his cock pulsing, burning, tingling with ecstasy that’s unparalleled. 

Knowing he’s got Bucky close to the edge, Steve picks up his pace, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard at the length of his cock. Bucky cries out when his orgasm hits, arching his back and coming right into his boyfriend’s mouth. Steve stills his mouth and takes it, all of it, still stroking him with his hand until he’s sure Bucky is done and his body relaxes. Only then does he release him and sit back on his haunches, panting and looking pretty pleased with himself, red lips glistening. Bucky can see his huge boner still trapped inside his jeans, and has a brief moment of regret that he hasn’t come yet, when Bucky is so sated and spent.

“Sorry I finished before you, babe—” 

He gets those words out, and means to promise that he’ll take care of Steve in the hottest, most bone-melting way he can think of, but doesn’t get the chance. Steve is on top of him before he realizes it, joyously pushing him down onto his back on the bed and kissing him again. Their arms and legs are tangled up haphazardly, smiles and kisses mixing together seamlessly.

“Finished?” Steve repeats, and his next words open up a world of possibility. “Sweetheart, this is only the beginning…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all soooooooooo much for reading! It's time to say good-bye to these two, though I love them so. Kudos to those who know who the original dogs named Zeus and Apollo were. See you again soon, lovelies!


End file.
